For England
by pebbles989
Summary: With her daughter-in-law and grandson dead, Lady Margaret Beaufort worries for the future of the Tudor Dynasty.
1. Chapter 1

(Idea came to me the other day, when I was daydreaming in a lecture. Really not sure about it, now it's on paper. Please let me know what you think)

'She young, Henry,' Lady Margaret Beaufort said in her usual emotionless voice, as she sat down in the window seat of her son, the King's, office. Knowing that the two of them were completely alone in the chamber, she flashed a rare smile as she watched King Henry VII, her only child, with his head bent over the account books, hard at work. He had become obsessed with the country's accounts since the death of Elizabeth of York, the Queen Consult; it was the only thing, which took his mind off of his heartbache but Margaret was a practical woman, her four marriages were a testament to that, things needed to go on as before, 'and you are still young, Henry,'

'Mother,' replied Henry, quickly and rather too sharply for the tone he usually spoke to his mother, the only person on God's Earth whom he trusted with his life, 'Elizabeth has been dead for only two months,'

Lady Margaret Beaufort sighed. She did not deny her cherished son, his love for his wife-she was not as cold hearted as her enemies liked to think. She was only human, a daughter of Eve, but she was a woman, who did not let emotions cloud the important business of government. Elizabeth of York had been a good wife, mother and Queen, and in the last years of her short life, Margaret had come to hold a respect and admiration for her, (as long, as she did not over step the mark). But Margaret was a woman, who had dedicated her life to putting Henry on the throne and now, with poor young Arthur dead as well, the throne of England was once again looking weak and Lady Margaret Beaufort was not about to let her life's work, slip through her family's fingers.

'I know Henry and may she rest in peace with the angels,' Margaret spoke, crossing herself as she did so, before getting to her feet and walking towards her son's desk in that regal way of her's, which she had rehearsed to perfection, long before Henry had been crowned, 'but your Highness, I speak to you as your most trust advisor. The throne is weak. Harry is a good strong boy, but we all know that when the Lord decides to call us too him, we have no choice but to obey and if God decides that Harry too, is to be summoned to the throne above, then all our life's work, will turn to dust,'

King Henry chewed on his thin bottom lip, as he heard his mother's wise words cut through him. She was right, of course, the way she had always was. As a King, who had fought and won his crown on the bloody battlefield of Bosworth, he had had to do everything in his power, to make sure that the crown did not fall from his head on to a thorn bush for another to claim. He had killed the pretenders to the thrown and along with those in his court, who had run to them, when those charlatans had raised high the banners of the House of York. But violence had not been the only way, he planned to hold the crown. He and Elizabeth had named their first son, Arthur, to signify England's rebirth under the new Tudor Dynasty; the returning of King Arthur and rebuilding of a greater Camelot. But now Arthur, along with poor, sweet Elizabeth, was dead and the future rested on the shoulders of their second son Harry. He was a strong boy, capable of much, Henry, despite not being close to Harry, knew this his second boy, but what if death was once again going to stalk his family?

'I will give the matter some consideration, mother,' he sighed, rubbing his forehead as he continued to study the figures before him, 'I swear that I will not let our life's work go to ruin,'

'That's all I ask, your Highness,' said Lady Margaret Beaufort softly, placing a hand lightly on her son's shoulder and in a rare show of motherly affection, placed a kiss on the top of his reddish hair, 'you will have plenty of time to consider it when she arrives at Court a week on Monday...Do not look at me in such away, Henry! Remember she is Isabella's daughter, every Kingdom in Christendom will have to recognise her as Queen and her children-God willing she do her duty this time-as those of England,'


	2. Chapter 2

(Thank you so much for all the brilliant reviews. Hope you all enjoy this chapter. Have an idea where I want this story to go, but if anyone has any ideas, please let me know)

Catalina de Aragon, Infanta of Spain and Princess of Wales, clasped the jewelled encrusted rosary tightly to her chest, as her litter headed slowly towards Greenwich Palace on a wet April morning. Closing her eyes against the early morning sun, which was trying desperately to fight its way thought the grey clouds, she silently prayed. Her lips moved, but they made no sound-no one but God was meant to hear this prayer.

Catalina was the daughter of Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile, the King and Queen of Spain, who had driven the Moors from Granada and had united their country, into what was wholly a Kingdom of God. She was not the daughter of any King and Queen, nor was her mother simply a Queen Consult. No, _Isabel I de Castilla_, was God's chosen and anointed Queen. _Isabel la Católica, _whose prayers to God were always answered and therefore Isabella had dedicated her life to him. God had come to her in times of peril, when Isabella's destiny looked like it was to crumble and kept her safe, delivering her, not only to her beloved husband but to the throne as well. Isabella had God's protection always, so she never showed fear –why should she, God was always by her side, the way he was on that glorious day when Granada had fallen. So as Catalina now prayer to the Almighty, she made sure no one could hear her words, for not only were they words of uncertainty about her now unsure future, they were words of fear-and daughters of Isabella did not show fear.

'Your Highness,' said Maria de Salinas, in a whisper, reaching out across the litter and taking hold of her mistress' hand, 'God will keep us safe. Soon you will be back in the loving arms of your family,'

'When I was a child, I use to believe that I could not breath without my mother,' smiled Catalina to her to her closest friend, though it was not one of her beautiful, dignified smiles, which had won the hearts of the English people-it was heartbreakingly sad, ' and as a woman, my heart still breaks to think of her being so far away, but I cannot return. I am a failure,'

'Catalina...'

'No, Maria,' replied the Infanta gently, raising her hand slightly to silence her friend, 'I could not do my duty. It was God's will that my husband was taken, but in those months before his recalling, I could not do my duty, not as a wife, nor as a Princess of Wales,'

Catalina turned away from her friend and look out of the litter as they approach Greenwich Palace. It was a wet April morning, the English countryside was looking so grey. It was one thing she could never understand about the country, she had once hoped to rule-it had no colour in winter. No colour, other than grey-not like her homeland. No! Catalina told herself, as she waved to two young girls, walking alongside the road with their mother. Since the age of three, England had always been her destiny-it was her destiny! If she returned to Spain, she was failure in the eyes of her parents and God, now she would need all her strength to make sure England would remain her future.

* * *

Watching the arrival of the Infanta, from the hilltop, was Henry VII. When he had awoken that morning, he found his mind was once again plagued with darkness, the way it had been since the death of Elizabeth and their baby daughter, Katherine. Usually he would lock himself in his office with the country's accounts or some other matters of state, pushing the blackness to the back of his mind, but today it would not help. He need to be away from the Palace, knowing very well what his mother was plotting.

'Can I speak plainly to you, your Highness,' said his step-brother, Thomas Stanley, bringing his horse alongside Henry's.

'If you must, Thomas,' replied Henry, his voice sounding emotionless as his mother's. He had wanted to go ridding by himself, he was still young and strong, he could still fight off an attack, but common sense dictated otherwise and Thomas was the natural choice-unlike his brother, George-Henry knew he could trust him.

'She's an attractive young thing, brother,' chuckled Thomas, nodding in the direction of the litter, which they could see had just arrived at the Palace, 'you could get plenty of sons off her. And I wager hot bloodied too, you'd have plenty of fun in the bed chamber trying to get her in that condition,'

'She was my son's wife!' replied the King, his voice cold, though even he admitted that his former daughter-in-law was a very beautiful woman, with her long auburn hair and her innocent blue eyes, making her a breathtaking picture of the Virgin Mary in the flesh. Even at their first meet in Dogmersfield, when he had taken Arthur to meet the bride he had brought for him, Henry had thought what a stunning wife she would make-though the thought had left his mind as soon as he had thought it.

'In name only,' answer back Thomas quietly, deciding to tread a little bit more carefully, not wanting to vex his step-brother even further, 'a Papal dispensation will soon altar that,'

Henry leaned forward and watch as he saw several people climb out of the litter and into the Palace. They were too far away for him to make out the Princess of Wales, though as he chewed on his thin bottom lip, he tried to guess by the hair colour which one she was. Thomas was right, the Pope would certainly give his blessing to the marriage and with Catalina as his wife, Isabella and Ferdinand would certainly start having to dance to his tune, not to mention those abroad, who longed for the return of a Yorkish King. They would have to think twice about overthrowing him, if he had the might of Spain behind him. On paper it all seemed so simple and it would be, except he felt the ghost of Elizabeth hovering over his shoulder. All his life, he had longed for the stability of a family and she had given it to him, not just by bearing him seven children, but by being a loving and tender wife, whose good nature could always bring a smile to his lips and smooth his often troubled mind.

'Has mother put you up to this?'

'Mother...Lady Margaret, is a lady I prefer to stay on the right side of. If father had not lead his troops on to Bosworth at the moment Richard charge at you, I believe she would have appeared from the Heavens to slay Richard and all us Stanleys herself,'

'Mother would have made a more fearsome King, than I' laughed Henry, forgetting his troubles briefly, 'I'd have followed her into the gates of Hell,'

* * *

In the privacy of her own chapel, Lady Margaret Beaufort, kneeled before the alter, her eyes transfix on the cross as her lips moved in prayer. God had never failed her. God had given her the strength to survive the turmoil of her youth and the chaos of her womanhood. He had protect her son, when half of England had wanted him dead, delivering him safely home to her and to the most fought over crown in Christendom. Now one more time, she would ask God to give her strength for her new campaign-for the Tudors could not lose England.


	3. Chapter 3

(Thank you so much for the great reviews. Hope everyone likes this chapter. Am going to have to 'sex up' Henry VII to make this work-hope no one minds ;))

'Princess,' greeted Lady Margaret, with a rare smile as she kissed the surprised Infanta on the cheek, 'I trust your journey was not too uncomfortable. The roads in England can be awfully treacherous this time of year,'

'It was a pleasant journey, my Lady,' replied Catalina, with a curtsey-Lady Margaret never curtsey now she was the Queen Mother, everyone curtsey to her, 'and thank you so much for you invitation. We are most grateful for you for having remember us,'

Lady Margaret smiled and signalled for the Princess to get out of her curtsey and take hold of her arm. She plays the game well, thought Lady Margaret, as Catalina continued to smile, as she took hold of her arm and the two women walk down the hall together. Many of her son counsellors were convinced the eighteen year old Spanish Princess would make a good little pawn in their power plays with Spain, but Margaret was not so naive. She had once been a twelve year old bride, then left alone with a baby son at thirteen after a birth which had almost killed her-she know only too well how strong a even the youngest woman can be.

'I felt,' continued Lady Margaret as the two of them entered the great chamber at the centre of the build, as various courtiers bowed in their presence, 'that at such a sad time, it was only right that those whom we consider family, should all be together and we do consider you family, Princess, even if the bonds that tied you to us, God has seen fit to break. But none of us know the future. Who knows - you might once again become part of our little family,'

Catalina smiled at the Queen Mother and nodded her head in thanks, but underneath she was not sure what to make of this. Did this mean that the King had agreed to her marry Prince Henry, in return for keeping her dowry? But despite not being in England for long, Catalina knew well enough, that things could quickly change.

'How is the King?' asked Catalina, staring at the bare stone floor, 'I hear he has gone into a deep sadness over the death of poor Queen Elizabeth. They were so kind to me when I first arrived and the Queen especially once Arthur...'

There was a silence then, as Catalina could not quite bring herself to say the word 'died,'. It would be wrong to say she had loved her young husband, but in the few months they had been married, she had become very fond of him. Sometimes she thought him childish, in the way he pretended to his friends that he and Catalina had bedded, but deep down, she knew he was a serious young man, who could one day make a good King.

'Yes,' said Lady Margaret, looking away from the Infanta, as she allowed herself a brief moment to reflect on the death of her eldest grandchild. She was cold woman at times, but not heartless and she had loved Arthur almost as much as she loved Henry and had mourned him deeply-though was not about to let anyone see her at a weak moment, 'we were all heartbroken by his loss, but our lives must go on. England must go on,'

'My mother would agree with you whole heartily, my Lady,' replied Catalina, suddenly wishing her mother was at her side, thought recent news from Spain was not good. Queen Isabella, despite not failing her Kingdom, had gone into a deep mourning after deaths of her children, Isabella, John and Peter, not to mention her little grandson, Miguel. But her mother never argued with God's will and always found away to survive the pain and uncertainty; and now Catalina must do the same, 'and with England's future in mind, has the King given more consideration to my marrying Prince Henry,'

Lady Margaret smiled at the Infanta, she truly was her mother's daughter, she knew that duty, always overruled any over sentimental notions of the heart. Duty was Lady Margaret Beaufort's ally, in making those in her plan come together.

'Can I speak to you plainly, Princess?' said Lady Margaret, guiding Catalina towards the door of the Palace chapel, 'Harry is a good, clever boy and will one day make a good King, but he is just that Princess, he is just a boy. Why would a clever, young woman, like yourself, want to marry a mere child, when you could have your choice of some of the most powerful men in Christendom?'

Catalina looked at the Queen Mother, not sure how to take her statement. Was it simply flattery? But Lady Margaret was not a woman, known for her offering of great complements without a motive being behind them. Perhaps this was a sign that Infanta Catalina de Aragon would soon find herself back on Spanish soil.

'I fear you give me too much credit, my Lady,' smiled Catalina, 'besides England has been my destiny since I was a child and I believe God has chosen me for the throne of this great country. England is the only country for me,'

'Well, my dear, you know that there are other ways to remain in this great realm, do you not,' replied Lady Margaret, returning her smile as she opened the door to the chapel and drew Catalina to it, 'but I will now leave you in peace, as I have some business to attend to, plus I'm sure you would like to give thanks to God for you safe arrival,'

Catalina nodded and went to speak, but before her words had a chance to appear on her lips, Lady Margaret had whisked her into the chapel and shut the door quickly behind her.

* * *

'Henry,' smiled Lady Margaret as she saw her son and stepson walking down hall towards her, 'and Thomas too. I trust you both had a nice ride?'

'Yes, thank you mother,' replied the King, leaning forward and kissing his mother on the cheek, 'and thankfully, the morning air has cleared my head considerably,'

'Good,' answered his mother, happy the her son was now in the right frame of mind, though she notice, her son and stepson were not in the most presentable of states, with mud covering their boots and breeches, 'you two spell of mud and horses. Henry that is not the way for a King to dress,'

Henry laughed as he saw his mother wrinkle up her delicate nose. He had spent most his childhood away from her, only receiving brief visits and that was only if whoever held the crown had permitted it, but since his return, his mother had more than made up for her forced absence during his childhood.

'Mother, I have been a solider most of my life and I do not intend to change my ways now. Thomas are you coming to the chapel?'

Thomas went to speak and walk forward, but his stepmother caught hold of his hand and Thomas knew he was not going anywhere.

'Henry, Thomas and I have some busy to discuss regarding some of my property in Wales. I will send him along to you, afterwards,'

Henry looked at Thomas, who simply shrugged his shoulders. They both knew something was not right, but they also knew that it was best never to question Lady Margaret.

'Very well,' replied Henry, a bit more seriously, 'I will go to church myself,'

* * *

'_Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto, Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum. Amen_

Catalina spiritual words echoed around the small chapel, her voice sounding both solemn and sweet at the same time. As she uttered the word 'Amen' and crossed herself, she heard the heavy door creak open and then shut. Thinking Lady Margaret had returned to reclaim her, Catalina got to her feet, only to find herself face to face with the King.

'You Highness,' she said, falling into a curtsey at the sight of her former father-in-law, whose serious eyes she could feel studying her as if she was an enemy, needing to be closely watched.

'Princess,' replied Henry, trying to hide his surprise at seeing her with a stern nodded of the head, 'I was not aware you were here,'

The two of them stood there for an awkward moment, not really sure what to say, as this place was certainly not the most appropriate surroundings to discuss the business that had occupied both their minds since Arthur's death-Catalina dowry and her future. Besides Henry's mind was busy trying to suppress other thoughts, as Catalina look up at him from under her eyelids with her crystal blue eyes. It had been awhile since he had seen his former daughter-in-law, but in that time, she had changed into an even great beauty than before. She was no longer just on cusp of womanhood, she was now a woman in every sense of the word, with a curved body that was truly ready for the uses it was created for.

'May I once again say how sorry I was to hear of the Queen's passing,' Catalina's exotic voice whispered, causing a shiver to run up Henry's spine, 'she was always so kind to me, as was your Highness,'

'Yes,' replied Henry, clearing his throat, knowing he had to be away from her, 'yes, thank you Princess, but I believe my mother is waiting for you. She wishes to take you to see Prince Henry and the Princesses,'

'Of course, you Highness,' smiled the Infanta, feeling somehow strangely relaxed in the King's presence, going into another curtsey and causing Henry to bite his lip, 'I am so wanting to see them again, especially Princess Margaret as I hear she is soon to leave for Scotland, '

Henry nodded and step to the side, letting her pass, trying desperately to swallow the lust that was creeping into him as she walked passed him, her body just brushing against his. As he heard the door shut, Henry threw himself at the altar and began feverishly to prayer.

'_Pater noster, qui es in caelis: _

_sanctificetur Nomen Tuum; _

_adveniat Regnum Tuum; _

_fiat voluntas Tua, _

_sicut in caelo, et in terra. _

_Panem nostrum cotidianum da nobis hodie; _

_et dimitte nobis debita nostra, _

_Sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris; _

_et ne nos inducas in tentationem; _

_sed libera nos a Malo. Amen_

Elizabeth, please forgive me,'

* * *

Catalina sat down in the window seat and waited for Lady Margaret. The way the King had made it sound, she expected to find his mother waiting for her, impatiently outside, but Lady Margaret was nowhere to be seen. So she sat down and waited, and to her surprise found her thoughts drifting to the King. He had seemed different today, much more human. On their other meetings she had found him hard and cold, difficult to approach, but today, meeting by chance and seeing him in his simple ridding clothes, which where wet with mud, he had seemed more human-more like a man.


	4. Chapter 4

(Thanks so much for the great views and to everyone who has been reading this story. Have changed Henry VII age to about 42/43 and have changed Roland de Velville date of birth to 1484. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter)

'Cat!' called Princess Mary, jumping down from the window seat, where she had been sitting playing with her doll and rushed over to the Infanta, forgetting to curtsey as she threw her arms around Catalina.

'How is my little Maria?' cooed Catalina, as she hugged the young Princess back and kissed her on the cheek, 'you been a good girl?'

'I've missed you so much Cat,' replied the young girl, who had already lost too many people in her short life, 'promise me, you won't leave me again. Promise,'

Catalina cupped her former sister-in-law's small, oval face in her hands and gazed down her. She had her mother's beauty, thought Catalina with a smile, but as she saw the tears starting to appear in the child, round grey eyes, the Infanta saw the hurt, which was hiding behind young Mary's smile.

'Of course, Mary,' smiled the Infanta, kissing Mary on the tip of the nose, 'England is my destiny and in England I will remain,'

Mary squirreled with delight and hugged Catalina so tightly, that she found it difficult to breath-not that she let her discomfort show. Her mother had always told her, those of royal blood, never showed pain, that they must always wear their most beautiful smile.

'Show some decorum, Mary,' came the voice of Princess Margaret, who was soon to be crowned Queen of Scotland. Margaret was sat at the table in the middle of the nursery, her serious eyes studying the letter in her hands. She continued to read, until she reached the end of the page, before getting to her feet and acknowledging the Infanta with a small nod, 'Princess, how kind you are to grace us with your presence,'

'It is I, who is honoured, your highness,' replied Catalina, dipping into a small curtsey, remembering that although Margaret was younger, she was the one who was a Queen.

'Cat!' chirped Mary, breaking the moment as she jumped up and down excitedly, waving her doll in her hands. She had been so lonely the past two months and was happy to see the friendly face of someone who might play games with her, 'come and look at the doll the French Ambassador brought for me. I've called her Lilabeth after mama,'

'Do you have to behave in such away, Mary,' said Margaret, still in a serious tone, 'remember you are the sister of the Queen of Scotland, daughter of the King of England and sister to the future King,'

Mary was just about to argue with her sister, her little hands on her small hips, but before she could, the door to the nursery swung open and in walked Prince Harry, his face slightly red with anger.

'That is it!' he shouted, slamming the door with such force, that some of the painting started to shake, 'I cannot be taught by that man any longer! He is unbearable! He might as well lock me in that room with no food or water, but endless books! I may die of starvation, miserable and alone but at least then, he would say, I die with knowledge! Hello Catalina,'

'Hello Harry,' smiled Catalina, going into a curtsey but Harry signalled very quickly for her not to. For him, Catalina was too nice to have to bow down to him-she and someone else were the only people, who Harry believed, for various reasons, could never be anything less than his equal, 'what is wrong? I thought you liked Mister More?'

'Do not mention that man's name!' groaned Henry, sitting down in the window seat with a thud, crossing his arms as he did so, 'if I had my way, he'd be locked up in the Tower!'

'Harry's upset, cause Mister More would rather become a monk than teach him any longer,' laughed Mary, pulling at Catalina's skirts, desperately wanting to go and play.

'Well you cannot be angry at him for that,' said Catalina, going over to sit next to Harry, 'God created us all for certain callings, Harry,'

'Yes,' replied Harry, in a sombre tone, but only briefly, 'but tutoring me, surely would have earned him a Sainthood!'

Catalina looked at Harry and thought back on Lady Margaret's words. Harry was still such a boy, not just in his body but in his mind too. True, he was still young and they would have to wait a few more years before they could marry, but she would truly be a woman by then, though Harry would still be boy. Did she really want to be married to a boy again? True, she would be Queen of England and fulfil her destiny-no, destiny was the most important thing, Catalina, quickly reminded herself and being Queen of England, was what God had placed her on this earth to do.

'I do not know why you love that man so much, Harry,' muttered Margaret, returning to her letter, which was from the husband she had yet to meet, 'father hates him. He says he's not to be trusted,'

'Father does not trust anyone,' answered Harry, quickly getting to his feet as he heard the voices of his grandmother and tutor coming the down hall and made a quick exit into the palace grounds, disappearing amongst some of the hedges.

'Why are you so grumpy, Margaret?' smiled Mary, innocently going up to her sister and standing by her side, 'it's as if you do not know how to have fun,'

'Because life is not fun,' mumbled Margaret, but before she could go into further detail, Mary snatched the letter out of her sister's hand and followed Harry into the garden, shrieking with laughter as she ran.

* * *

'So,' said Henry, as Thomas fell into step beside him, 'what did mother want?'

'To be honest,' replied Thomas, still slightly confused by his conversation with his step mother, 'I'm not entirely sure. She spoke about having problems with her tenement farmers in Pembrokeshire,'

'But mother has no farms in Pembrokeshire,' interrupted Henry, having had his suspicious confirmed-his mother knew he always went to the church to prayer the same time every morning, 'I met the Princess in the chapel,'

'Did you?,' laughed Thomas, briefly forgetting himself and failing to notice the grim expression appearing on Henry's face, 'well, you should count yourself lucky, that you did not find her in your bed chamber. That's what mother would have done in the time of David!'

'Well King David wasn't at the mercy of every traitor in Christendom,' snapped the King, hitting one of the overhanging branches, sending the new spring leaves flying. What was he doing, being out walking, when government needed him? If he did not watch every inch of policy with an eagle eye, something was bound to slip through, which would leave him and his family at the mercy of traitors.

'You Highness...Henry,' said Thomas, quietly and carefully, 'I know it has only been two months and you have every right to grieve, but you're becoming fanatical. I know we are not brothers in the sense of blood, but I feel we have come to a connection of sorts, so I say this as someone who cares. Perhaps re-marrying is what you need. I'm not saying, straight away or even to the Infanta, but you need some comfort, before life toughens you so much, that you will not only lose the love of your people, but also your family. Elizabeth would want you to have fun,'

'Thomas,' sighed Henry, feeling defeated, 'was I ever fun to be with,'

Thomas laughed and hoped Henry would once again lose his fixation on grief and utter control, as they walked on a little further. In the distance, they could hear the sounds of the Princesses Margaret and Mary, along with the voice of the Infanta. Thomas studied Henry's expression and saw what he thought was the closest thing he was going to get to a smile.

'Speaking of traitorous bastard,' said Thomas, lightly, 'George is back at Court,'

'Ha!' laughed Henry, kicking at the ground, imaging it being the head of his eldest step-brother 'what's he up to this time?'

'He would rather die than tell me. As far as George is concerned, I'm the traitor, for selling my soul to you, for as much land and titles as you will grant me,'

'Well then Thomas,' smiled Henry, as Princess Mary ran past them and his mind briefly wandered to happier times, 'you must be easily...'

As Henry spoke, he was interrupted by the laughs of Catalina and the shouts of Princess Margaret, who had given chase after Mary, but as they ran, Catalina foot became caught under the root of one of the many ancient trees, causing her to tumble; though before she could fall, Henry quickly reached out an arm and caught her round the waist.

'You shouldn't run, Princess,' he whispered, his voice, sounding surprising warm, which caused Thomas to smile and chuckle to himself, 'it isn't good for your health,'

'No, you highness,' replied Catalina, softly as with the aid of the King, she steadied herself on her feet, 'and thank you,'

Henry felt his mind spin, as he stood there holding his beautiful, former daughter-in-law round her slim waist, as she with her delicate fingers, held on tightly to his arm, as if for protection. Her smile was so perfect, so sweet, but there was an edge to the red lips, which seemed to hide a secret behind her innocent face, whilst her eyes, unlike the other women Henry met, where not frighten to meet his gaze and look into his soul. Had God cursed him? Why had he taken Arthur and returned his young bride to him?

'You're welcome, Princess,' said Henry gruffly, as he let go of her with a tiny shove, whilst having to suppress the image of him, taking her up against a tree, her long legs entwined around his waist, as she cried out his name. Why was her curved body so warm?, 'I think my daughter Mary requires you,'

Princess Mary returned to where the rest of them was stood, wanting desperately for them to restart the game. She was only seven and the house had been so full of sadness these past months, that having Catalina with them, brought a smile back to her young face and made her feel as if she could laugh again.

'Come Cat,' she chirped, jumping up and down on the spot, 'you have not caught me yet,'

But Catalina did not move, instead she continued to look at the King, her eyes seeming to study him, in a way which made Henry nervous-did she know what he was thinking? Could she see his mind trying to stop his body from wanting to place his lips, on her tempting mouth?

'You can go, Princess,' muttered Henry, trying to look away from her, 'just don't expect me to be there to pick you up,'

'No, you highness,'

Catalina went into her perfect curtsey, but her eyes did not lower-they continued to study her former father-in-law. As she came out of her curtsey, she lingered a moment longer, before going off after Mary.

'Princess Margaret,' smiled Thomas, looking over at his step niece, who was still stood with them, 'are you not going to join in?'

'No,' she snapped, though her eyes stared at her father, 'I am a Queen now and Queens do not take part in silly games!'

Princess Margaret, who would soon be God's anointed Queen, stormed passed her father and uncle, heading back to the palace, but as she did so, her eyes stared coldly at her father. Henry met her gaze and felt the burden of guilt once again, become heavy on him. His eldest daughter was so like him, in appearance and manor-she knew it actually what he was thinking. She saw the lust in her father's eyes, as he had held the Spanish Princess in his arms, but Margaret had seen something in the looks that had been exchanged between her father and the Infanta- looks, which her father had missed and which now had her fearful for the memory of her mother.

Thomas, who put Princess Margaret mood, down to her sharing her father's stubborn nature, with a smile, opened his mouth to speak.

'Don't say anything, Thomas,' muttered Henry, dismissing his stepbrother, as he too stormed back towards the Palace, kicking the ground hard as he did so.

* * *

'Mother,' said Henry, as he heard her enter his chamber. Although he had his back to her, as he sat writing at his desk, he could always sense when she was near, 'I know what you do is always out of motherly love but that trick in the chapel was...'

'Do not say cruel, Henry,' answered Lady Margaret, rushing over to her son's side and taking hold of his hand, 'I am never cruel to you, my darling son. All I ever do, all I have ever done is for your best interests. I would never have allowed you to take the field that glorious day in August, if I thought my beloved boy was in danger,'

Henry was silent for a moment and looked out of the window, letting his eyes fall once again on the Infanta, who was sat on the stone bench, talking away to the young Princess Mary. His children were fond of her and she was of them, surely that was another consideration in favour of his mother's proposed union. Then suddenly as he heard Catalina's girlish laugh, Henry remember that she was only a few years older than Princess Margaret; not only that, she had been married to his own beloved boy.

'Mother...'

'All I ask Henry, is that you consider the matter,' interrupted Lady Margaret, 'we have to consider what is best for England after all. But Henry, you know more than anyone, how I am not cold hearted when it comes to you. I worry for you. I worry that if you continue to allow yourself to enter these grievous places of darkness, one day you will not be able to return,'

Coming over to the desk, Lady Margaret kissed her son on the cheek and brushed a strand of hair tenderly behind his ear, before once again living him alone with his thoughts. How long could he go on like this? He was more than well aware, what was happening to his mindset. Henry knew he was fighting grief, by become obsessed with ruling his kingdom. Losing his wife and eldest child, along with the losses of Princess Elizabeth and Prince Edmund had hardened his mind. His precious family were slowly falling away from him. Soon Margaret would be in Scotland, with little chance of them meeting again, Henry, he knew, saw father figures in others rather than him and little Mary was so much like her mother-what if God decided to take her also. Then there was his mother, people would say she was immortal, that nothing could take her, but Henry knew that his beloved mother, was simply flesh and blood and that one day too she would leave, the way uncle Jasper had done. What if he married again and God decided to reclaim her and their children too?

'Your highness,' came a soft voice, from the doorway, which brought the King out of his thoughts with a start. Because of his fears, Henry made a point of knowing all the servants, but this one, with its non-English accent, Henry did not recognise.

'Yes!' snapped Henry, as he very quickly turned round and view the servant suspiciously. The young servant was a young man of about twenty with dark round eyes, which stared nervously at Henry and reddish hair, which seemed to not do as it was told.

'My Lady, the Queen's Mother,' stuttered the man, his thin lips trembling as he spoke, 'said that you required a drink,'

Henry got to his feet and walked slowly over to the servant, who trembled slightly at the sight of the King, yet managed to continue to meet Henry stern gaze.

'What's your name?' asked Henry, taking the goblet of wine as he continued to examine this new face. There was something so familiar about him, especially his coal black eyes and his accent. It sounded French and too many of the most learned men of England, it would have sounded so but Henry knew better. The accent of his newest servant was not French-it was Breton.

'Roland,'

'You're from Breton, aren't you, Roland?' asked Henry, sitting down at his desk, but continuing to watch the young man, who he was convinced he could not trust, 'so what are you doing in my court?'

'I...'

'I would think very carefully before you answer,' continued the King, taking another sip of wine. Breton was a place Henry knew well. If they had cut him open, they would have found its name engraved on his heart. Despite all the strife back in England, Henry had always felt safe there, in that small corner of Europe. He had made many friends amongst its countryman, but his man unnerved him-though he was not sure why.

'My father worked for de Vieilleville family,' replied the servant, his voice growing stronger, 'and so did I, until recently. My mother was heartbroken over the loss of my father, so she thought it would be for the best if we started again in England, as she has friends here,'

'As long as you remember to be careful about the company, you and your mother choose to keep,' said Henry, noting it down in his mind, that he would have to ask mother or Thomas, to look into this servant's background, 'you may go,'

The servant left with a small nod of the head and Henry returned his mind to the business of state, yet as he looked over reports from the Scottish borders, all he could see was Catalina's crystal blue eyes, looking deep into his.

* * *

_Henry was sat before the small fire in castle kitchens, staring hard at the flames. His mind was racing with thoughts. Was England really his destiny? Would God chose him for the throne of a country, which he had hardly ever stepped foot in? His mother, in her letters and Uncle Jasper seemed certain that their precious boy was the great hope for the Red Roses of Lancaster, but Henry was plagued with doubts._

'_Harri,' came that sweet female voice, which always brought a smile to Henry's face, 'Harri,' _

_Henry looked up at her and found his mind suddenly at ease, as she walked towards him, her beautiful eyes fixed on the hard stone floor. She looks so innocent and venerable in the firelight, that Henry found the passion he felt for her start to boil uncontrollably round his blood. This is the way she came to him at night, when the rest of the castle is abed and it is just the two of them. He'd reach out a hand for her and pull her on to his lap, where they would embrace, until their bodies could not hold off any longer. Then they would lay on the stone floor, before the fire place and tearing at each others clothes, until every inch of the flesh was touching, as they make slow passionate love._

_But tonight she ignores his hand and instead places her hands on his shoulders and kisses him gently on the head, as she whispers, in a tear stained voice;_

'_Don't leave me, Harri,' _

Henry awoke with a start, sweat dripping from his troubled face, his breathing heavy. Reaching for the tankard by his bed, he took a swig of water, hoping it would calm him and would cease his dry throat from closing.

When he usually dreamed of the past, it was usually of those dark days with Jasper, when it looked like all was lost. On those nights, Elizabeth had always been able to calm him, reminding him that the past could not hurt him and of all the good, the two of them had created together. But Elizabeth was now no more. It was just him now, all alone in his chamber. No though of Elizabeth comforted him, nor did the long past, which the dream had returned to him.

Getting out of bed, he put on his robe and went over to the window. Opening the shutters, he looked out over the Thames, into the heart of his Kingdom. His mother was right, as she always was, Henry was withdrawing to a dark place. He had always been slightly paranoid about his Kingdom, but now it was turning into an obsession, which occupied his every hour of the day, except for the thoughts, which had started to creep into his mind since the Infanta's arrival that morning.

'No!' Henry told himself firmly, as he slammed the shutters closed. His grief was a pain he must bear and no Princess, however much the curves of her body made his groan almost throb with desire, was going to easy it.

* * *

In the other side of the palace, Catalina de Aragon lay tossing and turning in her bed, trying desperately to get to sleep. She had prayed several times, to help easy her mind but to no avail, for Catalina herself, could not understand what was plaguing her mind. She knew the source of her problem- it was the King who caused her sleeplessness but she could not think why?

He had always been cold towards her. On their first meeting, he had barged into her bed chamber, demanding to see the goods he had paid for. She had thought him rude and disrespectful, but in a way, Catalina had always admired him. As hard as he was, he had fought for his throne, to fulfil the destiny the God had blessed him with, the way her mother had done-yet all this did not explain the thoughts now running through her mind.

As she once again turned over and closed her eyes, Catalina could still feel the King's arms around her waist, as he stopped her from falling. He was strong. She could sense the muscles in his arms as she held on to his sleeve-she had not wanted him to let go of her, nor had Catalina wanted to let of him. It had caused her pain, when he had pushed her away-it felt as though he had kicked her in the gut, but as he let go, Catalina caught a look in his eye, which while she could not explain it, she knew that she wanted him to hold it.

'Cat! Cat!'

Catalina looked up and to her surprise, she saw the Princess Mary stood by the side of her bed, holding a small candle in one hand and the beautifully French made doll in the other.

'Mary?'

'I cannot sleep,' said the young child, tears starting to fall down her cheeks, 'I went to mama's chambers, like I always do but the doors were locked and then I remembered that she's...that she's...'

The poor girl started to cry out in pain, as it occurred to her, that her mother was gone and she was not coming back. Her mother had always been there, when she needed her. She had kissed cuts and bruises better, had comforted her when she suffered nightmares, let her dress up in her dresses and jewels and more importantly taught her to read and write; Elizabeth of York had been the centre of young Mary's world but now that loving centre was gone and Princess Mary found herself lost. Lady Margaret was trying her best, but she belonged to a generation harden by the horrors of an endless civil war, and thought she was protective of her youngest grandchild, she struggled with the emotional side, whilst her father, was retreated away from his children, as if he was withdrawing from the one thing that he had most loved.

'Can I sleep with you, Cat?' asked the little girl, trying to wipe her tears away from her pale face with the back of her nightdress sleeve.

'Of course you can, my little Maria,' smiled the Infanta, pulling back the corner of the blanket and hugging Mary, as she and her doll, climbed into bed beside her, 'now come on, no more tears, my little Maria. Your mother is with the angels now, she would not want you to be sad. She would want you to uses the love she sends you from Heaven, to live with a smile,'

The young Princess nodded her head at the words of the older one and snuggled down beside her former sister-in-law; soon Princess Mary was fast asleep. Catalina smiled as she heard the child's gentle snoring and tenderly kissed her on the forehead, then settled down beside her, hoping that sleep would soon take her too. But as Catalina closed her eyes, she found the thought of Mary's mother, the lady who had always been so good and kind to her, plague her with feelings of guilt in her heart and jealousy in her veins.


	5. Chapter 5

(Thanks for all the reviews and thanks to everyone who is reading this story. Hope you all enjoy)

'Your Highness,' hissed Thomas, as he tried to wake his step-brother and found himself surprised, by how heavier a sleeper Henry was. In fact the King would hardly sleep and if he did it was for only for short periods of time, but after his earlier distress at his haunting dream, when the King had returned to his bed, he had found he could not keep his eyes open, 'Henry,'

'Mmm,' mumbled Henry, ignoring Thomas as he turned over and went back to sleep.

'Oh for God sake, Henry,' shouted Thomas, shaking his brother's shoulders a little harder, 'wake up!'

'Henry!' snapped Lady Margaret, clicking her fingers as she stormed into the chamber. On hearing his mother's command, Henry jumped out of his sleep and found himself shocked to see both his mother and Thomas, standing over him. It was not the sight of his mother, which shocked him, as she was fully dressed and ready for the new day, but Thomas, who was still dressed for bed.

'Why have you woken me up, mother' demanded Henry, even more unnerved as he heard a commotion outside and saw the uneasy looks pass between his mother and step-brother, 'what in God's name is going on?'

'Harry,' smoothed his mother, sitting down beside him and placing an arm around his shoulder, 'I'm afraid we cannot find the Princess Mary,'

* * *

'How long as has she been missing?' asked Henry, jumping out of bed and quickly throwing on a pair of breeches, as he felt his heart pound with panic, 'who was the last to see her?'

'Mistress Mary, when she put her to bed last night,' answered Thomas, as he hurriedly followed Henry and his step-mother into the corridor, 'she went to check on her about an hour ago and found she was missing,'

'An hour!' shouted Henry, grabbing Thomas by his nightshirt and pulling towards him, 'and you have only just got me!'

'Do not blame Thomas, Harry,' replied Lady Margaret, placing a hand on his shoulder, sternly but gently, 'I thought it was best not to trouble you, until we had search the Palace and it's grounds,'

Henry could never be angry with his mother, she always did what was for the best and she always did what was best for him. But his daughter was missing, taken by his enemies no doubt, who longed to see the White Rose of York, once again flutter over every Palace in England and Wales.

'Thomas, tell the guards to search every house in and around London,' shouted Henry, letting go of a relieved Thomas, 'and make sure no ship is…'

'Father, why everyone shouting?'

Henry froze, as did Thomas and Lady Margaret, as they turned around slowly and saw the missing Princess Mary, standing there, holding her doll in one hand and the Infanta's hand with the other.

'Mary' shouted Henry, relieved to see his daughter, alive and well, as he rushed over and scooped her up in his arms, 'where have you been?'

'I couldn't sleep, father,' she said, hugging him, hoping that he was not angry with her-as he always seemed to be angry since mother died, 'so cause Mama with the angels, I went to see Cat and she let me sleep in with her,'

'Cat,' repeated Henry, puzzled for a moment, only to realise who his daughter had been with as he heard the exotic voice of the woman, who kept creeping into his mind.

'I thought it was for the best, your Highness,' said Catalina softly, 'I did not…'

'No, you're right,' shouted Henry at the top of his voice causing Mary to cry, 'you didn't think!'

How dare this woman, dressed still in her nightgown and robe with her beautiful hair hanging lose, try and be his daughter's mother, thought Henry, as anger boiled through him. She had been planning this from the start, trying to entice him into marry her, with her always acting as Eve in front of him. It was probably her, who put the idea in to his mother's head, about England needing a Queen, with poor Elizabeth not yet cold in the ground.

'Mother take Mary,' Henry continued to shout, as Lady Margaret took her crying granddaughter off her son, 'I know what your game is, woman and believe me, I will make you pay!'

'I'm sorry, your Highness,' replied a stunned Catalina, trying not to let the hurt show in her voice, 'I do not…'

'Oh yes you do!' roared Henry, causing even Lady Margaret to shake a little, 'witch, you have brought me nothing but trouble since you step foot on English soil! You killed my son and now you want to take the place of my poor Elizabeth! Well, come sunrise I will drag you down to the docks myself and putting your arse on the first ship heading to God damn Spain!'

Henry turned round and stormed back to his bedchamber, before he lost his temper even further, leaving behind him a stunned, half-asleep court. Slowly Lady Margaret left to put Mary back to bed and Thomas gingerly went over to the Spanish Princess, who was still stood there, as if she was frozen to the spot.

'Princess…' started Thomas, but before he could finish, Catalina had started to run down the corridor after the King.

* * *

'Now you hear me,' raged Catalina, storming into Henry's bed chamber, causing Henry to jump as she threw open the doors and ran up to him, 'I am a Princess of Spain! The daughter of their most Catholic majesties Isabella and Ferdinand and how dare to speak to me in such a way!'

'Princess,' gasped Henry, slightly shocked by the sight of the undress Infanta standing just by his bed, her hair hanging lose and her robe having fallen from her shoulders as she had ran after him, so her body was only covered by her linen shift. It was not the first time they had been in this situation, but back then it had been her bed chamber and Henry was not being driven mad by desires, 'you are making a fool of yourself,'

'I' screamed the Infanta, still maintain an air of dignity- her mother had always told her to never lose her temper , but the King was making that extremely difficult, 'I make a fool myself! I think your find, your Highness that it is you who is the fool! You call yourself self King but you are not worthy of such a title!'

Henry stared at her, shocked by her words. How could she have said such things to him, the King of England? Did this beautiful, yet stubborn Princess, really just tell God's appointed King, that he was not worthy the great and ancient title-a title, which he had risked his life for. She was so tempering, standing there with her pouty red lips and her hands on hips, but Henry felt his blood boil once again.

'Now you listen to me Princess,' he shouted, hitting the table causing the tankard of water to jump in the air, landing on the floor with a crash, 'you are here as my guest! I raised you height and I can easily bring you back down to earth with a crash!'

He expected the Infanta to crumble then. To cry and run back to her own chamber, then maybe to Spain, where he would no longer have to worry about this woman, who had brought him, nothing but trouble, since she had arrived on his shores. He glared at her, the coldest stare he could manage, only to find that she still did not move. Instead of flight, she sat down on his bed and stared up at him with fire in her usually crisp blue eyes.

'I am the daughter of the Most Catholic Queen Isabella of Castile and King Ferdinand of Aragon!' she said, crossing her arms as she did so, 'you did not raise me and you cannot crush me either! You can shout at me, you can belittle me, you can bully me, but you cannot crush me! I will always be of Royal Blood!'

'Well,' sneered Henry, realising she was not just any lady, who he could simple throw out of the Palace, if they overstepped the mark, 'regardless of how you have Royal Blood, you have no right to marching into my bedchamber!'

'As you have no right to charge into mine!' she replied, matching his tone.

Henry looked at her, her beautiful face wearing a deep frown. He had never seen her looking angry before, even when he had barged his way into her bed chamber on one of her first nights on English soil. But then, she had still been a child, now she was a woman, in need to fight for her own destiny.

'I have every right,' snapped back Henry, trying to suppress the surprise allure he found in her angry eyes and fight his corner, 'I am the King of England!'

'And you are rude!' said Catalina, ' you are arrogant! You have no heart. If your own daughter would rather go to a woman, she has met only a few times, then her own father, you cannot have much love in your black heart. And if your daughter does not love you, then your people must hate you,'

There was silence then. Even in the outside hall, were Lady Margaret, Thomas, and courtiers were listening, they were stunned. No one spoke to the King in such away, not even his mother, who was equally as shocked as the others by the why the Infanta had spoken to her son.

'Do not worry about throwing me out of your court, your Highness,' replied the Princess, rising to her feet and making her way gracefully to the door, 'I will leave this instance, but you will not be rid of me. I was born to be Queen of England and I will fight every way for the crown,'

Henry watched her go, not sure what to make of what had just occurred in his bed chamber. No one had ever spoken like that to him before, in fact he had dismissed men, for talking to him even half as harshly. He should want to throw her to the wolves, to make her suffer for humiliating him in such away and in front of those, whose respect he needed to maintain, but he did not feel so twisted-he found he respected her. No one, not even his mother or Elizabeth, would have thought to utter such words against him.

'Princess,' shouted Henry, rushing to the door and looked after his former daughter-in-law. She was walking back to her chamber, through the rows of hurriedly dressed courtiers, who parted like the waves as she walked towards them, but as she heard Henry's voice, she just turned and fell into a deep curtsy, as all the court gasped, 'Princess, you...you may take Princess Mary ridding this afternoon. Thomas will accompany you,'

* * *

'Where's Thomas,' remarked Henry, as he signed the document Lady Margaret had just handed him, 'I need him to look into something for me,'

'He's accompany the Infanta and the Princess Mary on their ride around Eltham, just as you commanded,' smiled Lady Margaret, sitting down at the opposite side of the desk, 'such a pleasant boy, Thomas. True, he is far from clever, but he is faithful and loyal. God may not have blessed me with the ability to give you brothers and sisters, Harry, but I am glad, he has provided us with Thomas. He would make a wonderful father of a family. We must remember to find him a match, one of these days. Thomas' is a handsome boy, so it...'

'I know what you're doing mother,' replied Henry, looking over the next document, 'I...'

'You know I only ever do these things, because I want what is best for you, Harry,' continued Lady Margaret, reach out across the desk and taking hold of her son's hand, 'we have worked so hard these past years...do not let pain destroy you. Let it make you stronger, Harry, the way it has always made me,'

'But mother, trying to make me jealous of Thomas isn't...'

'Was I trying to make you jealous of Thomas, my son,' whispered the Queen Mother, 'I'm merely stating what is a fact. The same as the Princess this morning,'

Henry, King of England, the love of Margaret Beaufort's life, looked up at his mother with an opened mouth. Had she really just said that she agreed with the angry words of a young Spanish Princess?

'Mother don't tell me you agree with her insults!'

'It's not about whether I agree with them, Harry,' continued Lady Margaret getting to her feet, 'but if you do. For someone who is so angry with our guest, I cannot help noticing instead of destroying her, as you threatened to do, you have let her take your daughter out ridding. Perhaps Harry, it's you that agrees with her...you know Harry, they have only just left. I'm sure you will be able to catch them up,'

* * *

'Henry,' smiled Thomas, trying not to show his surprise as his step-brother joined the three of them in the little clearing in the wood. He had seen the look on his step-mother's face as the three of them, had ridden away from the stables-he knew Henry would not be far behind them.

'Father,' cried Mary, throwing her arms around her father as he helped her down from her small, white mare. Little Mary very rarely saw her father since the death of her mother and when she did, he hardly smiled or said a word to her, but now he looked different-he looked almost happy, 'father you staying with us,'

'Yes, Mary,' replied Henry, kissing his youngest daughter on the head, before setting her down on the ground and going to over to Catalina, who was having trouble dismounting her horse, 'Princess would you like a hand or would you rather I call Thomas,'

'Your Highness will more than do,' smiled Catalina, as she let the King place his arms around her waist and helped her slide down from her horse, all the while her gaze met his. Her crystal blue eyes, not flinching as her body grazed against his, as he put her down on the ground. Once again they stood there, holding on to each other and Henry tried desperately to think of King Richard's battered corpse, rather than the body he was now holding.

'I owe you an apology, Princess,' said the King, as he let go and came to stand by her side, while the two of them watched Princess Mary chase Thomas around a tree, 'I have no right shouting at you or barging into your bedchamber,'

'And I have no right to charge into your,' smiled back the Infanta, with a gracious nod of the head, 'do not worry, you will be safe in your's tonight,'

Henry laughed, trying to hide uneasiness he now felt. If he had admitted to himself, he found he could not get the image of her, sitting on his bed in her thin nightgown, out of his mind.

'Are you still determined to remain in England?' asked Henry, clearing his throat, 'I hear you promised my daughter Mary, that you will never to leave her,'

Catalina watched as Mary shrieked with glee, as she caught her uncle, before turning and running away, before he could tag her. She was so sweet and innocent, much like Catalina had been as a child, before coming to England-she had been her mother's special Princess, but now she would never see the one she loved most in the world again.

'It your Highness will allow,' she replied, trying to hide the strain, 'England is my destiny,'

'And you still hope to marry my son?'

'If your Highness will allow,' smiled Catalina, going into a small curtsy, before walking away a little as underneath she was uncertain about choice she had made. Prince Henry was still a boy, a child but she was a woman, she was ready to be a wife and mother.

'You know,' Henry said, falling into step besides his former daughter-in-law, 'me and you are very much alike,'

Princess Catalina raised a eyebrow as she looked over at the King, not sure what to make of his remark, nor about the warm tone in his voice.

'I know what people think of me. They think me uneducated and coarse,'

'And you think that of me, your Highness?' she gave a little laugh as she spoke, starting to feel uneasy. Why was the King making her feel so nervous. He had never had this affect on her before, even on their first meeting. She knew how to behave in front of Kings, so why did he now have this affect on her, which made her heart almost jump every time she saw him.

'Do you ever wonder why I don't speak or act like the rest of those at court?' grinned Henry as the two of them came to rest by a tree, a short distance from Mary and Thomas, 'why I don't act like that More creature, who Henry loves so much?'

Not knowing what to say to say, Catalina once again gave a small smile, before leaning against the trunk of the tree and looking up at the sky. The rain had passed and the spring sun was trying desperately trying to fight it's way through the clouds.

'I, like you, am not English,' continued the King, as he too leaned against the tree and stared at the same spot in the sky, 'it is not my first language. I struggle,'

'You are not English? asked the Infanta, slightly startled by the King's admission, 'but you are...'

'The King of England,' laughed Henry, pulling a leaf off one of the many branches, 'my mother is English, but I am Welsh. Welsh rolls off my tongue, Y Ddraig Goch ddyry gychwyn, as does Breton and French, but with English I struggle. My mother is English, my wife was English and my children are English, but I am not. God choose me to be King of this country, yet England has never been my home...Sometimes, like you, I grow homesick for a land, I can never truly call home again,'

Slowly Catalina looked away from the sky and turned towards the King, who also did the same, causing their eyes to meet and for her to see a look in the King's eyes, which she knew only too well. It was a look of distant eyes, that were looking out over a landscape that only they could see, whilst the wearer tried to suppress tears for their long lost home.

'I miss my mother,' whispered the Infanta Catalina de Aragon, trying to stop tears from falling from her eyes as she did not want to seem weak in front of the King, but soon she felt one, silently roll down her cheek.

'Its alright to cry, Princess,' smiled the Kind, handing her handkerchief, 'even King's cry sometimes,'

'Thank you, your Highness. England is my home, but at night or when I am alone I long for Granada...I think your Highness would like very much to see Granada,'

'I think I would too,' Henry replied, carefully putting an arm around her shoulders, jumping slightly as she rested her head against his chest, 'and one day, I will show you Wales. Properly this time, in the summer, when the sun is always shining,'

'I would like that very much, your Highness,' whispered Catalina, surprised at how safe she felt in the King's arms.

* * *

'Maria,' said Catalina carefully, as she laid back in the hot, rosewater bath, letting the water rise up to just under her chin, 'tell me, what do you think of the King?'

Maria looked at the Infanta, her only friend in this strange country as she poured another jug of water in the bath and tried to see what lay behind her mistress' question. But Catalina, while capable of great emotions, could easily find away to hide them behind her beautiful face.

'May I speak truthfully to you, your Highness,' replied Maria, looking cautiously around the chamber, making sure they were completely alone, that none of Lady Margaret's spies were hiding among the shadows, 'Catalina,'

'Of course, Maria,' smiled Catalina, sitting up slightly as she ran a cloth over her left arm, 'I always want the truth from you,'

'Well,' stuttered Maria, sitting down on the stool by the bath and starting to comb through the Infanta's thick hair, 'I think his Highness is rude, arrogant, coarse and scruffy. Why you ask, your Highness...Catalina,'

'Oh no reason,' sighed Catalina, still with a smile on her face, as she lied back down in the bath and thought not only on the moment by the tree when King's had placed a strong arm around her, but also on the moment, when he had helped her down from her horse and her body a slid down against his, causing heat to flush over her, 'I feel exactly the same way,'


	6. Chapter 6

(Thanks for all the great reviews. Hope everyone likes this chapter. Happy Christmas)

'Thomas,' smiled Lady Margaret as she took a sip of wine and turned her attention away from her grandson, 'are you going to ask our charming guest to dance,'

Thomas, who was busy talking with the courtier who sat beside him, turned to face his stepmother, who nodded her head in the direction on the Infanta, sat just beside her, in a deep conversation with the King.

'Of course, mother,' replied Thomas with a cocky grin as he got up out of his seat and went over to the Princess and his stepbrother, 'Princess would you care to dance, if his Highness would allow?'

'If the Princess, wishes so,' said Henry with a nod, slightly annoyed at Thomas for taking Catalina away from their conversion. Henry may have had slightly harsh opinions of Catalina glorious parents, particularly after they had messed him around with her dowry but he found that he actually enjoyed listening to the Infanta's stories about Granada.

'You do not dance, your Highness,' Catalina asked lightly in her Spanish accent as she got to her feet and took hold of Thomas' arm, 'I thought you said that me and you were so a like,'

Thomas looked at Henry, as did Lady Margaret but for a very different reason, as it could be that the notion she had planted in the Princess mind only a day ago, had started to grow. Thomas, however, was wondering how his stepbrother would react to the kind of comment, only Elizabeth would have dared say to him.

'I guess we're not,' laughed the King, as Thomas breathed a sigh of relief, none of them noticing the scowl on Princess Margaret's face as she saw the smiles the King and the Infanta had been exchanging all evening as well as way they had kept touching each other's arms. Well, none but Lady Margaret had seen, of course.

'Margaret you should be dancing,' she cried, getting to her feet and tapping the Prince of Wales on the shoulder, 'Harry dance with your sister, it might be the chance you have,'

Henry jumped to his feet and rushed over to his sister's side, offering her his arm. Forcing a smile, Margaret got to her feet and let her brother lead them to the centre of the room where the rest of the dancers had assembled. As she and her brother danced, Princess Margaret kept her grin fixed to her face as she watched the way her father's studied the Infanta, who danced beside her with her uncle. His eyes usually look at everyone with such suspicion, but now they were staring at the Spanish Princess with a warmth, that made Margaret feel uneasy, especially as she saw the way her former sister-in-law smiled back at him.

'Margaret!' snapped Henry, 'stop standing on my feet!'

'Sorry,' replied Margaret in a whisper, as she walked slowly back to her seat as the dance came to an end-her eyes remained fixed on her father, who applauded the dancers with his own eyes still on the Princess.

'Jealous your Highness,' smiled Thomas as he walked passed the King and went back to his chair.

'Do you want to end up in the Tower, Thomas?' muttered Henry but still with a smile as he returned to his conversation with the Infanta, who sat back down next to him.

Thomas sat down as well and restarted his conversation with Cecily Tudor, Jasper Tudors widow but despite their lively conversation, Thomas could not help but look out over the banquet. As he surveyed the great hall and saw all the happy faces, he thought that this was first time since the death of Prince Arthur that he had heard the court laugh.

Henry too had noticed the difference, but the more he spoke with the Infanta, he noticed that a pair of eyes were on him. He looked round and saw the servant from Breton watching him, his eyes emotionless -but no matter how uncomfortable his eyes made him fell, it was nothing compared with cold emotions he suddenly felt, as the one face he did not want to see, appeared in the hall.

'Lord Strange,' announced the guard.

'Your Highness,' smiled George Stanley, elder brother of Thomas, stepson of Lady Margaret Beaufort and stepbrother of the King, as he appeared in the centre of the hall, 'may I say how great it is, to be back to court,'

The whole court stopped and stared at the King, wondering how he was going to react to the return of his oldest stepbrother. It was no secret among the court, that Lord Strange allegiances lied with the white rose of York.

'I trust you had an productive visit to Calais, George,' replied Henry, his voice cold and emotionless, causing Catalina to feel a shiver run down her spine.

'Very productive, brother,' said George, his grin growing as the chamber became even more uncomfortable, 'Lord and especially Lady Browne send their kind regards,'

'I bet they do,' muttered Henry, in such a chilling manor, that Lady Margaret quickly got to her son's side, whilst continuing to glare at her untrustworthy stepson with her beady eyes.

'Of course,' continued George, as he sat down at one of the tables and helped himself to some wine, 'they told me to tell the King, that they long for the glorious day, when they may once again step foot on the pure white soil of England,'

Henry felt his blood boil then and his old hard temper return. He knew very well what the pure white soil of England meant –and it wasn't the white cliffs of Dover!

'You are all dismissed!' snapped Henry, jumping to his feet and storming out of the room, so fast that the court did not have time to stand up and bow. Catalina watched the scene with a mixture of emotions. She felt her heart mourn as Henry matched away from her, but she knew that she must not lament so and that it was more important for her to watch everything with an impartial eye-so that when she was Queen, she would know what her first call of action must be.

'Princess,' whispered Thomas, rushing over to Catalina, as she got up to retire with the rest of the court and pulled her into a corner, 'forgive me but I think you should go after him,'

'I, Thomas,' stuttered the Princess, suddenly not sure what to say or do, 'I think I should retired to bed. It would be better for his Highness if you went to see him. You know him better than I,'

'Which is why I think it would be best if you spoke to him, Princess,' smiled Thomas, offering her his arm as he guided them towards the door, 'his Highness, my brother, has retreated into himself since the deaths of my nephew and sister-in-law and it is getting harder for us to bring him back. Even mother is finding it difficult, but you...you are different. He will talk to you,'

* * *

'Your Highness,' said Catalina, softly as she knocked on the chamber door, 'may I come in,'

She stood there a moment, in the darken corridor, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Her body was seized by goose bumps as she felt nerves gather in her belly-should she go after him? Even Lady Margaret had remained in the dinner hall, rather follow her son-maybe that was a sign that Catalina should have remained also, but she had felt the need in her heart to go to him-even Thomas, who was not the kind of man to let her make a fool of herself, had signalled that she should go.

'You can come in, Princess,' answered Henry, after a long pause, his voice sounding once again cold and emotionless, causing Catalina to feel her heat beat so fast, that she thought it might burst. Slowly, she entered the King's chamber and tiptoed over to where he was sat by the fire, staring hard at the flames, 'did my mother send you?'

'No your Highness,' stuttered Catalina, curtseying as she studied the King's face. He looked as cold as ever, but at the same time venerable, 'it was Thomas, who suggested I see you. He thought you might speak to me,'

'Did he?' laughed Henry, getting up out of his seat and walking over to the fireplace, 'then tell me, Princess, how are you so sure that you were born to be Queen of England?'

'I feel it your Highness,' replied the Princess, suddenly feeling strong and determined, 'I feel it in my heart and in my head! I feel it in God's love all around me every moment I breath! I am sure you Highness must have felt the same, on the day when God granted you the crown,'

'I was scared,' whispered Henry, staring hard at the flames, as he closed his eyes, hearing the pounding of the hunchback and his knights charging towards him on horseback, 'I could see him charging towards me. I knew there was no escape, I had to fight but to this day, I know if it hadn't been for my stepfather deciding at that moment to join the battle, it would have been my beaten body that was paraded naked through the streets,'

'But God chose you,' cried Catalina, forgetting herself as she grabbed hold of the King's arm, 'he sent the Stanleys to you that day, not the pretender! It is you who sits on the throne of England! If God had not wanted it to be so, he would have struck you down long ago and not let you reign for so many glorious years,'

Slowly, Henry turned away from the flames and looked at his former daughter-in-law, her blue eyes so full of passion and her face so full of kindness.

'You are very clever, Princess,' smiled Henry, suddenly letting his lips almost give away a secret, 'you would make a good queen,'

'I am my mother's daughter,' replied Catalina, blushing slightly as she kissed Henry's hand, 'and one day I will make her proud...and you too, your Highness,'

'Even though you think me cruel,' whispered Henry, placing a hand carefully on the side of her face as he allowed himself a moment of weakness. Elizabeth had always known how to smooth his troubles but she was gone and now, in her place stood, a woman of equal beauty, wit and conviction. Before he could stop himself, he bent over and brushed his lips against hers.

'I was mistaken,' sighted Catalina, as felt the King-her former father-in-law's lips just on top for her mouth, her arms pulling him closer to her, 'this is wrong,'

'It doesn't have to be,' replied Henry, who no longer saw her as a temptress, but as a woman with a mind, capable of being a great Queen and wife.

They lingered for a moment more, Henry not sure whether to continue and Catalina, having to fight the wants of her body, against the growing concerns of her mind. The King, was father of her departed husband, not to mention father of her future husband, but everything was now becoming clear. Why she enjoyed staring into the King's eyes , why she liked their time alone together and why, more than anything, she had savoured the moments when their bodies where pressed against each other-the same reason, as to why she did not now want to let him go.

Henry went to pull away, suddenly feeling nerves build up inside him-how could he have been so foolish, but as he moved, Catalina pulled him back and hurriedly welcomed him into her mouth. Her mouth was warm and sweet and Henry, as he buried his tongue deeper into her, suddenly found senses in him, which he had long thought dead forever, come alive, as he wrapped his arms tighter around the Infanta's slim waist.

'Catalina,' he whispered, breaking free from their embrace, briefly to look into her eyes and free her thick auburn hair from her hood, before their mouths were once again join together.

'Your Highness,' gasped Catalina, pressing her fingers against the back of his head, crushing his lips against her's. She had never been kissed likes this before. On the brief occasions, when her and Arthur had kissed, it had been quick kisses on the lips or on their wedding night, when they had tried to consummate their marriage, he had clamped his wet mouth on top of her without knowing what to do next but with Henry, it was so different. His tongue entered her mouth in such a strong rhythm, that she felt herself overcome with heat and wanting every inch of her body against his. He was taller than her and had to stoop to kiss her, but it did not stop Catalina wrapping her arms as tight around his neck as she could, crushing her body against him, 'your Highness,'

'Father, may I be allowed...'said Princess Margaret, coming into her father's chamber whilst reading a letter from her 'husband', not looking up at first as she was to engrossed in her husband's words, until she heard the startled cry of the Infanta. Her mouth fell open and her hands dropped the paper on the floor, as she saw her father and former sister-in-law in each other's arms, with the Princess' English hood lying on the floor, 'Father!'


	7. Chapter 7

(So sorry it has taken me so long to write this chapter and also that it is not very long, but I seem to have hit writer's block with this story. Maybe once I had Henry and Catalina kissed, I felt a bit lost. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter and I promise not to leave it so long next time)

Trying not to be noticed, Thomas sneaked into the Eltham Palace by a secret door, which was hidden just by the side of the kitchens. He had not retired to bed with the rest of the court when Henry had commanded it after his confrontation with their brother George, instead Thomas had sneaked off into the city to explore its delights. It was not the first time he had done this and he was certain it would not be the last, but he was still careful not to be caught, for he could not face the wrath of his step-mother, if his secrets where discovered.

Tip toeing down an empty corridor, Thomas could see door, whose wooden entrance hid the stairs, which led to his bed chamber. He was almost there and would soon be safely back in his warm bed and in the realm of some much needed sleep, but as he reach for the cold metal handle, a strong arm suddenly grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him into a nearby chamber.

'What the devil!' he cried, reaching for his dagger, as he was pulled into the small darken chamber and the door slammed shut behind them, but as went to weld the weapon at his attacker's chest, his eyes in the candlelight met a familiar face, 'Henry!'

'Thomas!' shouted Henry, knocking the dagger out of his step-brother's hand, 'don't be foolish!'

'Foolish!' gasped Thomas, trying to catch his breath, recovering from the shock as his heart tried to beat normally once more, 'foolish! Henry, I thought you were trying to kill me!'

'Murder you! Who'd want to murder you?,' muttered Henry, walking away from him, before sinking on to the small single bed, which was one of the few pieces of furniture in this forgotten chamber, 'You've been hanging around the docks for too long, Thomas,'

Thomas mouth dropped open, as he heard the King's words-did Henry known where he had taken to sneaking off to at night? He found it hard once again to breath and prayed the smell of drink did not linger too heavy on his breath-for when Henry knew a secret; his mother would soon also know the clandestine truth.

'Your Highness,' started Thomas, steadying himself with the aid of mantel piece, 'Henry...'

'Oh be quiet Thomas,' groaned Henry, with his head in his hands. He had not slept all night, his mind racing over his moment of weakness in which he had let his passions take advantage of his dead son's wife. If that crime was not bad enough, his hideous act had been witnessed by his eldest daughter. He wish to God, that Jasper was still here to be his guide but he was gone, along with sweet Elizabeth- so, he must made do with Thomas, 'I don't care what or who you do in the stews, as long as your whores aren't fond of white roses...Thomas I kissed her,'

'Henry, I beg you,' cried Thomas, falling on his knees before his step-brother, the King, 'please do not tell mother! She will...you kissed whom?'

Thomas looked at Henry, not believing the words he had just heard him utter. He and Henry were brothers, and Thomas was the closest things Henry had to a friend, but Henry never confided anything intimate with him. Not once, since they had known each other had they spoken of the lives, which they lead behind chamber doors. Thomas knew very little of Henry's life with Elizabeth, the same as, Thomas hoped, Henry did not know all the details of what went on in his adventures in the city.

Henry met Thomas' gaze, but quickly turned away and went back to staring at the floor. He had a reputation as being a cold man, who possessed a heart of stone and in his way, he liked holding that title but at the moment, he felt like the lost thirteen year old boy, who had been bundled on to ship bound for Brittany, plagued with the nightmare that he would never see his mother or home again.

'The Princess!' Thomas gasped and Henry nodded, looking up, meeting his eyes, as Thomas laugh, 'your Highness...Henry!'

'Thomas,' snapped Henry, anger flashing over his face-Jasper would never have behaved in such a manor, 'I fail to see the joke and so should you, if don't want to end up in the Tower for the role you played in it last night!'

'Yes, sorry, your Highness,' murmured Thomas, sitting back on his feet, 'it was not meant to cause you any grief. It was meant to help easy your mind,'

'Easy my mind!'

'Henry,' said Thomas quietly, still sat on the floor and looking up at Henry, seeing real pain, in his usually cold, harsh eyes, 'what happened?'

Henry sighed and got to his feet, rubbing the side of his forehead as he paced up and down the chamber. All night, he had revisited that moment, when he had held the beautiful Princess in his arms and felt her warm lips against his but it was not just his moment of foolishness, which caused him pain- it was also the look of anger on his oldest daughter's face when she had walked in, on their embrace. Catalina had fled the chamber, while Margaret had just glared at her father with such hard eyes, that Henry saw himself staring back at him. What had chilled Henry the most, was the silence with which Margaret had looked him up and down with, before departing from the chamber. It was a look of complete distain, of complete hatred as if she was saying without words, that he had betrayed her mother.

'I don't know,' sighed Henry, massaging his temples, trying to stop his head from swimming, 'we were talking,'

'Yes, ' said Thomas, starting to feel the effects of the previous nights drink leave his body, only to be replaced with a pounding headache, 'but what were you speaking about?'

'Don't interrogate me, Thomas!' snapped Henry , 'remember who is King,'

'Yes, Your Highness,' continued Thomas, trying to sound as reasonable as possible, though the headache was making reasoning with Henry difficult, 'but do you want to discuss this as a King or as a man?'

Henry looked as his stepbrother and felt the frown fall from his face. Until recently life had been had been good and when things had gone wrong, he had Elizabeth and Jasper to help him put things right, but now, Henry was almost alone. Not only that, but now with Elizabeth gone, he was having to remember that he was no longer a husband, but a man.

'I told her about that day, at Bosworth,' sighed Henry, shaking his head as he replayed the events of last night over again in his mind, 'how thing looked like they were over, before they had even begun, if it had not been for father,'

'Yes, us Stanleys have a gift for arriving at the right moment, well except George,' replied Thomas, forgetting himself briefly but to his relief Henry let out a small laugh, 'then?'

'Then...' Henry started but then stopped, as he got to his feet and made his way over to the chamber's small window and looking out over the city as the sun started to creep through. He wanted to say that it felt good to be so close to a woman again, sensing the comfort coming, not just from her body, but from the words falling from her mouth. It had not been the same as with Elizabeth, who would calm his fears, with words of kindness and sweetness; it had been words of passion and fire which had brought him comfort last night. He had seen the spark in Catalina's eyes, which he had been trying to suppress these past few days, but last night, he had let it melt his soul, 'then we... and Margaret caught us,'

Thomas nodded his head, feeling sympathy for his step-brother. Princess Margaret had changed since her 'marriage' to the King of Scots. She was acting the Queen, though she was still missing her crown, behaviour which had only increased since the death of her mother, ordering those around to act on her every whim. Even sweet little Mary was getting annoyed with her older sister, but Thomas could understand Margaret's actions-it was her way of dealing with the pain, her mother's death had caused her; pain that was not going to be eased by finding her father so soon in arms of another.

'Did she...'

'No,' finished Henry, finding his own head was starting to throb with pain, 'she just stood there, opened mouthed as Cata...the Princess fled, before doing the same,'

'Did you go after either of them?' asked Thomas, gently as he came to stand by his brother's side, putting an arm gingerly on Henry's shoulder.

'No,' muttered Henry, focusing his eyes on the rising sun, 'I kicked over a chair, cursed myself and...'

'And looked over the country's finance?'

Henry looked at Thomas, feeling anger started to creep into him, but soon became overrun with the sadness, knowing that in those brief moments with Catalina, he had felt alive again, but as she had fled the chamber, the storm clouds, had once again circled around him.

'Henry,' continued Thomas, taking a deep breath as he tried to be assertive with his step-brother, whilst remembering his status, 'in those moments with the Princess, did you think of England at all? About our traitorous brother, about the country's purse, about the Duchess of Burgundy, about..?'

'No,' gasped Henry distantly, as he shook his head from side to side, trying to overcome his headache and listen to the new feeling in his heart, 'no, no, no…I thought of nothing besides her,'

Henry was no fool. He had spent his life studying those around, deciding whether they were friend or foe, if he could trust them-and most of time he found that even the nicest of persons, could turn out to be your deadliest enemy. These were thoughts that would consume every hour of his day and at nights, his dreams. When Elizabeth had been alive, she had smoothed things. With her sweet words, she had made his nightmares seem as though they were only silly, childhood terrors, but since God had decided to take her from him, they had only increased in their intensity-except last night. It had only been for a few brief moments, but in that time, when he and the Princess had been in each others arms, Henry had felt himself alive again. There was no need for fears, for what he had from Catalina in their embrace, the strength and love he felt from her cured all that those terrors.

'And when you were thinking about her,' Thomas said, trying once again choose his words carefully, 'were you at any time, thinking you wanted her because she reminded you of Elizabeth?'

'Of course not!' snapped Henry, turning on his stepbrother, but when he saw the look of hurt on Thomas' face, he cursed himself for being so cruel-after all Thomas was only trying to help, it was not his fault, that he was not Uncle Jasper, 'that night when me and her argued, the thought had crossed my mind, but last night no. She is not Elizabeth. Elizabeth was kind and gently, but the Prin…Catalina is passionate and strong. Her comforts are different from that of my Elizabeth's,'

Thomas smiled as he heard those words, but at the same time, he felt a hint of sadness. He could understand Henry's loves and fears, for they were the same as his-only he could never share them with his step brother or any member of his family. In fact, Thomas doubted if he could share his dreams with anyone, even the person whom his heart desired.

'Well, Henry,' he sighed, 'I know we say it often, but I think once again mother is right. I think it is time, you let yourself put the storm clouds to bed,'


	8. Chapter 8

**Once again, I am so sorry with how long this update as taken and can only hope this chapter makes up for my poor timekeeping. Hope you all enjoy and please let me know what you think. Happy Easter.**

In the sanctuary of the small chapel, which was situated just by the chambers she had been given, Catalina spent the evening on her knees before the statue of the Virgin Mary-the closest thing she had to a mother on this small island.

_Salve, Regina, Mater misericordiae, _

_vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve. _

_ad te clamamus exsules filii Hevae, _

_ad te suspiramus, gementes et flentes _

_in hac lacrimarum valle. _

_Eia, ergo, advocata nostra, illos tuos _

_misericordes oculos ad nos converte; _

_et Jesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui, _

_nobis post hoc exsilium ostende. _

_O clemens, O pia, O dulcis Virgo Maria_

Catalina tried not to cry as she uttered the Holy words her mother had taught her, about the Mother of their Saviour, but it was no good-the tears dampened her pale cheeks and salt was on her lips. She had committed sin, letting down, not only God and the Saints in Heaven, but also her mother. What would the Most Catholic Isabella say, if she had seen her daughter last night in the arms of a man, who was the father, not only of her late husband, but also her future.

God had placed her on this Earth to be the Queen of England, to help rescue this green island from the bitter civil wars of the past, the same as Isabella had been born to united Spain and rid the country of the Moors. But whereas her mother fulfilled all God had wanted of her, culminating on that glorious day when they had ridden victorious into Granada, her daughter had failed. Isabella had vanquished every temptation that Satan had tempted her with, though when Beelzebub had visited Catalina de Aragon, she had thrown herself without question into his grasp.

'_Confiteor Deo omnipotenti, beatae Mariae semper Virgini, beato Michaeli Archangelo, beato Joanni Baptistae, sanctis Apostolis Petro et Paulo, omnibus Sanctis, et tibi Pater: quia peccavi nimis cogitatione, verbo et opere: mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Ideo precor beatam Mariam semper Virginem, beatum Michaelem Archangelum, beatum Joannem Baptistam, sanctos Apostolos Petrum et Paulum, omnes Sanctos, et te Pater, orare pro me ad Dominum Deum Nostrum,'_

She was meant to be Arthur's queen but God had decided that was not to be and had granted her young Harry as her King instead. God had needed to be sure of his daughter's strength and Catalina had held strong-until last night...no not just last night, but every since she had arrived back at Court.

She had wanted King Henry. Wanted to feel his strong arms around her, crushing his muscular body against hers, wanted to feel his mouth on hers, wanted so much to feel his rough tongue deep in her mouth, so that the sacred spot between her tights would start to tingle. And it's still tingled and throbbed, it's intensity growing even worse at the moment her mind wandered to His Highness and their embrace.

Catalina tried to push it from her mind and imaged her body going through the pains God's son had suffered on the cross, but it was no good-the King still entered her mind and worst of all, her heart.

'Catalina,' whispered Maria, creeping towards her Princess, 'you cannot spend the day locked in here, you need to eat, you need to drink, you need to sleep,'

'No,' replied Catalina, not taking her eyes away from the Virgin, 'no I cannot. I need to show God that I am worth of his forgiveness. That I am worthy of his destiny,'

'Oh Catalina,' gasped Maria, grabbing hold of her mistress linked hands, 'listen to me. God's destiny for you, is for you to remain your pure, beautiful and holy self- a destiny you cannot achieve in this land. The King will never let you marry the Prince of Wales now! No, if anything he will force you into his bed and take you and take you, until you are no longer worthy of Heaven!'

'Maria,' snapped back her mistress, with a surprising amount of anger. How dare she question God's plan for her and her household but also, though Catalina tried to suppress it, how dare she describe the King in such away, 'you are my true friend, though never...'

'Cat! Cat!' cried little Princess Mary, running into the small chapel, crossing herself before running over to the Infanta, 'there you are! I had been so worried-I thought you had left me!'

'I could never leave you, my little Maria,' smiled Catalina, thrown a sharp look over at the older Maria as she kissed Mary on the top of the head, 'I promised you and I always keep my word,'

'I know Cat!' laughed Mary, throwing her growing up around Catalina's neck so tight, that the Infanta found it difficult to breath, 'I know! Come play with me, Cat,'

'I...' started Catalina, not wanting to show her face in the Court for fear that word had got round about the events of last night, especially as she could not image the Princess Margaret keeping the secret to herself, but Mary would have none of it.

'I know God would wants you to play with me and my dolls,' Mary said, pulling Catalina to her feet and dragging her out of the small chapel and chambers, and into the hall. As she heard Mary's innocent giggles, Catalina found her troubles gradually slip away, but it was not to last; for as they entered the Royal nursery, Catalina came face to face with Princess Margaret.

* * *

'Get away from my sister!' screamed Princess Margaret, running at Catalina like a whirlwind and pulling the Princess Mary away from the woman, whom she now regarded as her father's harlot, 'you may have got your dirty claws into one member of this family, but I will be damned if I'll let you infect the rest of us with your filth!'

'Princess, please,' started Catalina, falling into a curtsey, determined not to cry. She was usually so strong but the events of last night, had made her weak, 'last night...'

'Last night was pure filth!' raged Margaret, tightening her grip on Princess Mary, who was starting to cry with confusion, 'even the Pope could not cleanse what I witnessed last night,'

'Margaret stop!' cried Mary, trying to break free and run to Catalina, 'Cat is an angel!'

'Ha!' shouted Margaret, tightening her grip on her sister as her eyes darkened on the Infanta, 'she's the whore of Babel!'

'Princess, I am no whore,' whispered the Infanta, slowly finding her strength-her mother had always told her to never run away from battles, 'last night was a moment of weakness. It was not planned. It was not out of spite,'

'Not out of spite! Not out of spite! Our mother is lying dead in the cold earth for less than four months and you tell me, what you and father did was not out of spite! And it was no moment of weakness! I have eyes! I have seen what has been happening between you and father! Your tongues were so hot in each other's mouths, I could clearly see that it was not the first time it has happened...was that why you did not do your duty on your wedding night, Princess? You let my poor brother get so drunk with his friends, so that while he was passed out in your bedchamber, you were next door, on your back with your legs spread for my father!'

'That is treason!' shouted Catalina softly, as despite the rage running through her, Margaret was still a Queen and she only a Princess, 'your Highness,'

'I decide what treason is!'

'No, you do not, Margaret,' came the cold voice of Lady Margaret Beaufort, which sent even her eldest granddaughter into silence, 'I am the only one who decides what is right and wrong around here! And I think it's time you keep your mouth shut!'

'I am a Queen...' started Margaret, throwing her head back as she spoke but she was fighting a losing battle, as no one every argued with her grandmother-not even the King.

'Then may I suggest that you alter you behaviour and act as though you are one, instead of a common little strumpet,' interrupted Lady Margaret, coming further into the nursery, the sound of her shoes echoing around the chamber, in a way that caused all three of them to feel their blood run cold, 'now, Margaret, may I suggest you stop upsetting your sister and continue with your packing-after all Scotland is not going to want a Queen, whose only possession in her dowry is the gown, in which she is now stood up in,'

Princess Margaret wanted to argue, she even started to move her lips, but she knew there was no point. The reason no one every argue with the Queen Mother, was because they all knew they could never win against Lady Margaret Beaufort. This lady had been widow at the tender age of twelve, expecting a baby, who one day became the great fear and threat to the white crown of Yorkish England. Giving up, Princess Margaret still holding on to her weeping sister's hand and went with towards the door with her head bent.

'Leave Mary with me,' commanded Lady Margaret, taking hold of her youngest grandchild's hand, 'I will not have her young mind, poisoned by your lack of decorum and manner. Now if you do not wish to enter your kingdom of Scots in just your shift, I suggest you return to your ladies and continue with your preparations,'

Walking towards the door, Princess Margaret tried her best to recreate the Queenly behaviour of her mother, but really she was still a child, with the manners of one and as she passed her grandmother and sister, she threw another icy stare at Catalina and mumbled curses under her breath.

'Princess,' Lady Margaret continued, calling over to Catalina, who was still fighting to stop the tears appearing in her eyes, 'my son requires a word with you in his chapel,'

'I...I,' stuttered Catalina, her strained blues eyes, looking up at the woman, who next to her mother was the most powerful and feared woman in Christendom, trying to hide her fear, '...I'

She had not seen the King since last night when the two of them had lost all their senses for a few moments of passion, which went against everything God had taught them. He was her King, in her adopted homeland, not to mention the father of her deceased husband as well as the father of the boy she wished to marry, once he came of age. But last night...no, since she had arrived, every time she had laid eyes on him, she had started to see him, not just as a King and Father, but as a man-a man whose touch her body continued to crave.

'Hurry, Princess,' interrupted Lady Margaret, with a click of her thin fingers, 'did that mother of yours never teach you that its is wrong to keep a King waiting,'

'My mother taught me many things,' replied Catalina, trying to defend her beloved mother, though her voice still sounded weak, 'and yes, you are right, Lady Margaret, she did instruct me that it was wrong not to obey...'

'Did she instruct you,' sneered Margaret as she turned to face her sister-in-law, her face still twisted with hate, 'that it is against the law of God to lay with your husband's father!'

Catalina once again felt herself paralysed with fear, as she heard the filthy word of Princess Margaret. Her mother was the most respected and beloved woman in Christendom, even the Pope himself was in ore of her. Queen Isabella had always lived her life under the strict observance of God and instructing her children to live their lives in the same light of love, but now Catalina, had broken not only her mother's rules but those of God Almighty, listening to wants and needs of her body, rather than the duty and loyalty of her conscience.

'Margaret,' said Lady Margaret, her voice as cold as ice, 'you may only be Queen of Scots, but I think you should acquaint yourself with a little decorum,'

Margaret, briefly forgetting who she was dealing with, turned to look at her grandmother, with evil in her eyes. Her grandmother was the most devout woman in Christendom-her faith would even put the Pope to shame. But now she would stood in front of her granddaughters, defending and blessing the shameful union between her father and sister-in-law.

Lady Margaret met her eldest granddaughter's glance and with a look so sharp, that it did not take long for the younger Margaret to remember who she was fight and crumble into defeat. With her shoulders hunched over, causing her finely make dress to take on the appearance of a crumbled rag, which had been discarded, she finally left the nursery.

'Well, now we have that little problem dealt with, it is time Mary that you were back with your nurse,' she commanded to her still weeping youngest granddaughter, 'and Princess, my son is King and he's does not like to be kept waiting-regardless of the great comfort you have been bringing him,'

* * *

Carefully, with fear spreading over her body, Catalina opened the door to the chapel, crossing herself as she entered, before letting her fingers play with her rosary beads. From where she was standing, she could see the back of the King, kneeling in prayer and the terror taking over her body, suddenly seized her heart and caused her fingers to play more intently with the beads of God.

Everything Catalina had ever done had been because God had willed it to be. Marrying Arthur, only for him have been taken away soon after, trying to marry Harry, only to find that his family were not so willing, but the lonely Spanish Princess, daughter of Isabella had held her ground. It was God's will that she sound be Queen of this green land, he had chosen her to govern this country with her King, the way her mother and father governed Spain. But had God chosen her King? She had believe that it was his will that she should reign with Arthur, but then God's grace had taken him, leaving Catalina, believing that the Almighty was guiding her towards Harry and there had been no reason to doubt this notion; but then Queen Elizabeth had still been alive and Catalina had not seen attraction of poor Elizabeth's King.

'Your Highness,' whispered Catalina , as she addressed the King, who was still stood with his back to her, studying hard the gilded cross. She looked at him briefly, her eyes momentarily taking in the shape of his body, but as her mind wandered to the moment last night when her flushed body had been pressed up against his, she forced her eyes to look at the stone floor, 'you wished to speak to me,'

Henry felt a warm chill run down his spine, as he heard the exotic voice of the Infanta. Looking down at his well worn but still young hands, he noticed that they were shaking. He tried to bunch them into fists but it still did not do any good-they continued to tremble, as he felt a fear, he had not known since that day in August all those years ago, enter his body.

Life with Elizabeth had been simple. She was his wife and the mother of his children and that was it. Her claim to the throne was stronger than his-even Henry could not deny that-but she had never even attempted to exorcise it. She was willing just to sit in the background with their children and stand firm by her husband side, only having to meddle when a peace maker was needed in family quarrels. Elizabeth had been perfect- the perfect wife and the perfect Queen Consult. Catalina, however was not so. She would argue, she would intervene, she would, like her mother before her, take to the battlefield. Henry could clearly see her demanding her say on all matters of State-for him, who like to always to keep such a tight grip of affairs, taking the Infanta for a wife, seemed as if would be equal to Ahab taking Jezebel. But Henry could not get the thought of her as his wife and Queen out of his mind.

'Princess,' said Henry, clearing his throat as he turned to face her, but as he once again laid eyes on his former daughter-in-law, he found he had to muster all his strength to make his voice retain some control, 'please sit,'

With a small nod of her head, the Princess did as the King commanded and she sat slowly down in the nearest pew, her eyes down as she watch her hands play with the silks of her skirts.

'Was it her age?' thought Henry, sitting down in the pew in front of Catalina's. She was young, beautiful and with a body that was untouched and yet, was ready and rip for the needs of men-was it this that was driving Henry almost mad? But then, last night, when they had kissed, it had not been her body, which had caused Henry to let his guard slip; it had been her words-her mind!

'My Lady the King's Mother,' said Catalina, her voice shaking as she spoke, 'said that you wished to see me,'

Was it that she was venerable? She was still young and a stranger on foreign shores, with no one to look after and care for her. Was that why he constantly yeaned for her? To feel the satisfaction of being her champion, while she clung to him for safety. But then last night, the daughter of Isabella had been anything but venerable-it had been the victor of Bosworth Field who had needed comforting arms.

'Yes...yes, Princess,' Henry replied, wanting his voice to restore his usual air of command, 'I think the two of us should talk, don't you?'

Catalina nodded her head gracefully as she tried to find the right words with which to respond, but as she thought on the words, her eyes were once again drawn to the man who had once been her father-in-law. He was not handsome, not in the way that other men of court were. His features were not those of a man from the romantic legends, but of man, who had ridden in and fought hard in a true battle, not simply a pretend one played for the pleasure of courtly games. It was a face of a man, who had been willing to fight for his destiny and for Catalina that was more a appealing than a youth, whose face showed only the pampered luxuries of wealth. But as Catalina let her mind linger on such thoughts, she suddenly felt the shivers of sin, as she tried to repress the actions her heart and body were longing to commit.

'Your Highness,' she said, trying to imagine herself in the body of her mother with the great Isabella steely determination, 'I full accept the blame for what occurred last night. I crossed the boundaries of what was proper for a servant of Your Highness and as a servant of the Almighty,'

'Princess,' gasped Henry, not believing the words just spoken to him. He was use to letting others take responsibility for his own wrongs, and he was often having to force them to do so but never had they down it so freely as the Infanta, 'no...no you were not to blame,'

As she heard those words, Catalina pulled away with her eyebrows slightly raised. These were not the words of the King, the gruff man who had once barged into her bed chamber, demanding to see the girl he had just purchased from Spain. Nor where these the words of the man, who had accused her of trying to ruin his family, but then again, they were the words of the Welshman, who had spoken kind words of comfort to her in the forest around Greenwich. Was that the true face of the King, who many claimed was turning into a tyrant that could rival any in Ancient Rome? Was he really simply just the lonely Welshman, in need of the wanting and the giving great comfort?

'You Highness, is too kind,' interrupted Catalina , looking away as she found every time she caught even a glimpse of the King, her face would become flushed with heat and her skin prickled with goose bumps, 'but last night I let myself foolishly overreach what is proper. I failed God, my mother and you,'

Briefly, only briefly, the Princess looked up at Henry, from under her eyelids, but it was enough for Henry to feel his heart almost stop beating. He felt himself a fool at this action, it was the way lovesick youths behaved, perhaps the way a lonely young man would act, but not a grieving man, who was constantly fighting for his crown. He loved Elizabeth, that was one thing that he was certain of, but had he been in love with her? She had represented all that had been missing in the years before Bosworth-a constant love that would look after and comfort him in times of trouble. She was faithful and constant, a good wife and mother, but with her, even as she lay dying, Henry's heart had never felt the way it had done in these last few days with the Infanta. (Though he could recall, when he had been a lonely exile, a youth in need of the experience of love, feeling this way before but it did not count-he was just a mere boy then).

'Marry me,' whispered Henry, his voice sounding almost emotionless as he stared down at his hands once more, which he was ringing together in a tight clasp. Henry had never been a man seduced by the romantic tale of knights and fair maidens, it was a matter of a shared and troubled pass that had caused his marriage to Elizabeth to bloom. But what of this with the Infanta? She was young, only a few years older than Margaret and was extremely beautiful with a body of equal desire. Was it lust then, that drove him to whisper those words? It had been so long since he had felt the warm body of a woman pressed up against his and if they had not been interrupted last night, he was in no doubt where he had wanted the kiss to lead them. But then, he had not allowed himself to lose all sense of purpose, until he had heard those passionate words about God and Kingship drip from her red lips...so was there more to his feelings than he supposed.

'I'm sorry, your Highness,' replied Catalina, her voice equally as quiet as she could not comprehend the King's words, 'but I do not understand,'

'Marry me!' cried Henry, 'be my wife!'

'I...I..I,' Catalina stuttered, despite her mind repeating the thought that she was Isabella daughter, 'Your Highness...Arthur...Harry...'

Henry sighed as he slowly recovered his mind. It was true, she had been one son's wife and it was purposed that she should be another's but then a dispensation from the Holy See would alter that. Though could Henry live with himself it he took her away from Harry and Arthur, but could he bear to be around her, if he gave her too his son? He loved Harry, despite the fact, he knew the boy wished another man to be his father, but Harry was still a boy, not old enough after what had happened with Arthur, in Henry's mind to be wed. He was also too overindulged by Elizabeth and the women around her, making him spoilt and rather too free-he would never treat the daughter of Isabella with the proper dignity, respect and...love she deserved.

'Harry is still a boy,' replied Henry, surprised at how cold his voice suddenly turned, 'and do you wish to be married to a child again?'

'No Your Highness,' said Catalina, looking up at him-maybe he was a hard man after all?

'Then accept my proposal,' insisted the King, trying to re establish the warm air to his voice, 'it would made perfect sense. Your destiny is to be Queen of England and I am in need of a Queen,'

Catalina nodded and got to her feet, cursing herself for being so foolish has she did so. For those brief moments, she had allowed herself to believe that the King was in love with her and she with him. Walking towards the alter, she stared hard at the cross. She had always believed that it was her destiny to be Queen of this green, yet wet land, but for a few moments she had let herself think she would achieve it with the aid of the love she had craved since her arrival. But it seemed that was not meant to be.

'You will not let me marry Harry?'

'No,' replied Henry, trying to hold his nerve and not lose his temper, 'because I do not believe it is right for you,'

'Then,' said the Spanish Princess, suddenly feeling her face become flush at the King's words, though she did not look away from the Cross, 'why do you think you are right for me, Your Highness? I am not the woman you need as a Queen. I want to rule. God did not place me here to simply sit by your side and nod my head when it is needed. I want to be a Queen, who rules by her husband's side, who listens to her and who when he is away, trusts her to act as his regent...and I do not think Your Highness would want that in his Queen,'

'And you know what I think, do you Princess?' replied Henry, getting to his feet and slowly approaching her. Her words were true, Henry did not like others, (except his mother), taking control of his Kingdom-but then, everything which passed between him and Infanta, was nothing like what had existed between him and Elizabeth, 'I may not be as clever as Harry's Master More, but I know enough. I know you are not my Elizabeth. I would not want you, if you were-I'd have put your pretty arse on the first ship bound for Spain if that was the case. Last night and now was because...because you believe in your destiny. We are much alike, you and me, we both believe God choose us for England, though it was not ours by birthright and because unlike me, you are...'

Henry wanted to say warm, passionate and loving, but that was not his way. All those years of exile had forced him to keep his emotions hidden from the view of the world, but years as a soldier had taught him that actions worked just as well as words. Giving up on his words, he turned to Catalina and placing in hands on the side of her face and his mouth on top on her warm red lips. Slowly he started to kiss her, his movements increasing in passion as felt her mouth respond and match his.

'Your Highness,' she gasped, in between kisses as her body once again became overcome with heat, as she wrapped her arms around his waist, crushing her body against his, vowing that they were never to part again. God had sent her to this country to be it's Queen and now after much pain, she would fulfil his wish, 'yes, Your Highness, y..yes,'

Their mouths returned to one another and in the presence of God, the Virgin and the Saints, they embraced again, unaware that from the corner of the chapel, behind a statue of St George, a pair of coal black eyes shared with them every moment of their passion.


	9. Chapter 9

**Big thank you for all my reviews and to everyone who is reading this story-I do not deserve you. Once again I am so sorry for my poor timekeeping and beg your forgiveness, hoping this chapter can make amends. Hope everyone enjoys. **

**Ps-if anyone know Breton or anything about Breton culture, could you please let me know, as it would be a great help. Thanks.**

As the day wore on and court was once again a hybrid of activity, no one notice as Roland slipped away from his duties. Taking the secret passage, which was concealed by a tapestry of Abraham, Hagar and Ishmael, he made is way quietly down the narrow, wet and dark corridor, before arriving back in the midday light, as he found himself standing in the herb garden, that was placed near the Palace's kitchens. Quickly, he glanced around to make sure there was no one to stop him or at least to report his movements to the King, before making his way towards the river, hoping to catch the first barge heading to the north side of the city.

* * *

'Roland,' smiled his mother, Katarin, as she saw her only child coming into her little home, 'I didn't expect you today. I would have tidy the place,'

Roland quickly returned his mother's smile as he came further into the tenement house, which she rented at such a low cost, as she had to endure the trauma of having the latrine running through her house's yard. She looked so happy to see him, in fact Katarin was always happy to see her son as he reminded her, not only of the only bright, constant star in her life-but because he was a near perfect image of his father.

'Nor did I, _mamm,'_ replied Roland softly in Breton, the language that he and his mother always spoke when they together, despite the fact it reminded him of his much missed homeland, 'but I needed to see you. I have something to tell...'

'You told him, did you Roland?' interrupted his mother with a gasp of so much happiness, that she jumped up and threw her arms tight around her son's neck, kissing him several times of the cheek, 'I bet he was so happy once you told him! I knew Harri would be counting down the days, longing for this moment to come!'

Roland watched with a heavy heart as his mother danced around the cramped kitchen, her old clogs from the homeland banging hard on the stone floor. His mother was just on the peak of her fortieth year, but despite the harshness of the past years, she had lost none of her beauty and anyone watching her twirl around the furniture, would have thought her a girl on the cusp of womanhood; which is what she had been, when this business at first started and what in her heart, she still thought herself to be.

Her heart still longed for the youth who had stolen her love amidst the green fields and castles of Brittany. Roland's earliest memories was of his mother putting him to bed and telling him stories of a sweet young maiden, who met her true love whilst picking flowers in the grounds of the castle in which her parents worked. They had fallen in love that day and soon had promised themselves to each other, only when the chance came for them to marry, he was taken away from her and married off to someone else. At first he had through it simply a sad little story, but as he grew, Roland realised the fair maiden was his mother, who he would hear weeping in the next chamber, moments after she had kissed him goodnight. This was why he had felt the need to rush here to tell her the secret, which he had just witnessed in the chapel before the whole of the country was to hear of it, but as he stood before her, he realised for the first time that his words were going to break her heart.

'_Mamm….'_

'Oh I hope I have not aged too much,' laughed Katarin, as she stopped dancing and started to run her fingers over her face, cursing the small laughter lines, which had started to appear near the corner of her eyes, 'but I'm sure Harri will not mind. He always said it was my spirit, that he found the most beautiful. That I was his angel, sent from Heaven to save him,'

'_Mamm...'_

'Did he recognise you, Roland,' she smiled, once again running up to her son and hugging him, 'you were just a babe in my arms last time he saw you, when he kissed us both goodbye. But he must have known it was you! You are the spitting image of him, my boy! Does he want me to come with you now or does he want me to wait until…'

'_Mamm, _please listen,' sighed Roland, taking hold of his mother's hand and holding it tight, as he guided her to a chair.

'Roland, my boy, what's wrong?' asked Katarin, her excited tone changing as she saw the serious look in her son's eyes-it was the same look his father had had in his, that evening when he had told her that he was leaving for England and that she was not allowed to come with him, 'you're not sick, are you?'

'No, _mamm,' _he answered, sitting down in the chair beside her, as he still held on to her hands, 'I'm not sick, but I have some bad news for you,'

'Not Harri,' she cried, her eyes starting to swell with tears as she tried to get to her feet, but her son stopped her, 'if he is ill, I must go to him,'

'No Harri…His Highness is not sick,' continued Roland, finding it hard to look his mother in the eye, 'but my news concerns the King. I'm sorry, _mamm, _but I thought it best you hear the news from me and not when it's announced in the streets,'

'Roland, please tell me what is wrong,' pleaded Katarin, her stomach starting to churn as her son tightened the grip on her hand, 'you are frightening me,'

'I have not told the King who I am, nor has he recognised me. In fact, I'm certain that he thinks me a spy,' said Roland, trying to get the words out as quickly as he could before his mother interrupted him, 'nor has he any thoughts of you. I'm sorry, _mamm, _but he plans to marry the Dowager Princess of Wales,'

There was silence for a moment, which seemed to last a life time as Roland waited for his mother to absorb his heart-breaking news. As he listened to the sound of two men arguing over the price of corn in the street, Roland thought he would have to repeat himself, but as he went to open his mouth, Katarin started to once again speak-only now all joy had gone from her voice.

'No, Harri wouldn't,' she cried, tossing her head frantically from side to side, causing her hood to slip off and reveal her dark hair, which showed no hint grey, 'you are wrong. It's just what his advisors want him to do, the way his uncle Jasper had forced him to marry that York girl, but once you tell him, that we are here, he'll put a stop to this nonsense and we can be a family,'

'I'm afraid that it's not nonsense,' whispered Roland as he felt his own heart start to creak. Despite his age, part of him was still the little boy, who believed his mother's words that one day his father would return to them, but having followed the King-his father- to the chapel that morning, he knew any hope of this was now dead, 'it's the King's will. He wants to marry her and she him. I'm sorry, _mamm, _for being blunt, but I saw them together, their tongues dancing around the other's throat-if they hadn't been in the presents of God, I sure he would have taken her there and then,'

It hurt, but he had to be cruel to be kind to his mother. She had been so unhappy in her marriage to his stepfather as her heart still yearned for another. So maybe now, hearing that whatever love there had been on his father's side, was gone, she could love again and spend her later years in peace and happiness.

'He promised me…he promised me,' said his mother, in a quiet voice, which shook slightly as the words fell from her lips, 'he promised me…'

'I know and the man is a fool, but now…'

'That god-damn, bastard child of Lamia promised me!' screamed Katarin at the top of her lungs as she got to her feet, knocking her son's strong hand away from her as she did and started to pace the kitchen, 'that dragon's spawn swore that if God ever parted him from that white rose creature, he would return and marry me! I stood there in that cathedral, with you in my arms and watched him swear to marry another, because I believed his sweet words that would always hold us in his heart!'

'_Mamm_,' Roland started, but did not get a chance to finish, as his mother, who was quite small in stature, stormed over the where the big cooking pot was resting and taking hold of it, she flung it across the room. With an almighty bang, it hit the wall causing the plats to tumble off the sides and smash one by one on the floor around Roland's feet.

'That bastard promised me,' cried Katarin, sinking to the floor with her arms wrapped around her, 'may he and his harlot rot in Hell for this,'

'_Mamm, _you do not mean that,' gasped Roland, rushing over to her and falling to his knees, placing an arm around her shoulders as she wept, 'I know how much you love him, but now you need to forget him. Maybe we should return home or somewhere new, so we can start again,'

He smiled with encouragement, hoping his mother would listen to his words. She hated England anyway and found the English rude, what was keeping her here, now that she knew her long lost love had well and truly forgotten her. But much to Roland's dismay, Katarin shook her head.

'No, Roland, we stay!' she replied coldly, as her charcoal eyes grew even darker, 'I want that bastard to suffer, the way I had to all these years! I want him to know pain and suffering so bad, that he would wish that hunchback had killed him that day! Now son, I want you to go back to court and go straight to the chambers of Lord Strange…'

* * *

'But surely,' replied Catalina, with her hands on hips as she stared at the King, 'it is for the best that we tell the Prince and Princesses now,'

After an awkward lunch, in which the Princess Margaret had spent the entire meal scowling at former sister-in-law, whilst snapping at anyone who would dare to speak to her-even little Mary- Catalina had thought it best to tell the truth of their plans. She was sure Harry would not mind that she would marry his father instead of him, they were friends after all and she knew Mary would be happy. The only problem was Margaret, but surely she would soon come round. Though as she spoke with the King in his office into the late hours, Henry seemed to have a different view and was showing no hint of sharing her thoughts.

'As I have told you a thousand times, Princess,' muttered Henry, as he leaned against his desk, his dark eyes meeting his bride's, 'it is best we wait for the dispensation from Rome. After all, you do not want to disappoint Mary if the Pope says no,'

'So you think he will say no,' answered the Infanta, approaching the King. Despite their argument, she had yet to raise her voice and was determined for it to remain so-after all she was Isabella's daughter and would soon be a queen herself. She needed to prove that she could act as one, even when dealing with a man as infuriating as her King, 'then you do not know the power my parents wield,'

'Yet, the Pope may not yield, if he feels he has nothing to gain,'

'His place in Heaven is what he needs to gain,' continued Catalina, as she stood straight in front of the man, she was hoping to marry, 'this is God's will,'

'And what if he feels that this is not,' laughed Henry, finding his mood change to become surprisingly light as he felt her warm body close to his and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him, 'not everyone speaks as though they hear the words of God, the way you do, Princess,'

'Yes,' answered Catalina, her voice still strong despite feeling her body quiver as she felt Henry caresses, 'and you speak as though you are a politician, not a King'

'It's the only way to survive and keep my courtiers in line. It reminds them that I'm in charge here,'

'But you are blood royal,' smiled Catalina, leaning further in, so that her lips were almost on Henry's, 'they should do your bidding , regardless of what they think,'

'No, my blood is tainted, my grandfather a commoner,' continued Henry, with his voice charging back to its usual sharp tone as his hands withdrew their touch, 'and I am the soldier, who won the throne on the field of battle and I have been fighting ever since to keep it,'

Catalina was surprised to find herself smiling at Henry's coldness. In the past she had seen it as a sign of his renowned meanness and cruelty, but now...now, she saw it as a sign of his vulnerability and loneliness. Unlike her, he had not realised God's majestic plan for him, until he was outside childhood and found himself being handed a destiny that he had not been trained for. God was testing him, by sending pretenders to the crown. It made Henry hard and uncaring, but for Catalina, she saw it as the effects of the sorrow, which God had placed on him to test his faith and make him worthy. He faltered sometimes, that was why he became hard on others-but she could help him. Unlike the departed Queen, Catalina was not related to Henry's troubles. She was of pure royal blood, she was foreign and more importantly, she was the daughter of Isabella and Ferdinand- no one would touch the crown imperial with her as Queen of England. Perkin Warbeck, Margaret of Burgundy and others would have to forget their hopes of pretending to be the ruler of England once she was Henry's wife.

'But once you have me for your Queen,' she smiled, placing a hand on the side of his face, freely admitting for the first time that she liked feeling his skin against hers, 'you will have no more worries-God, my blood and your military skills, will show all that the Tudors were destine to rule England,'

'Despite the fact that I'm rude and arrogant,' replied Henry, returning her smile as he once again pulled her back to him, 'and you still wish to marry me,'

'For England's sake,' laughed Catalina, placing lips on top of his, 'for God and for England,'

'For England,' muttered Henry with a grin, before he once again kissing his future Queen. She was no Elizabeth-if she had been, Henry would have pushed her away and placed her on the first ship bound for Spain-no one could replace his sweet first wife. But where Elizabeth would have just smiled and told him he needed to kiss the children goodnight, Catalina words were fearless and wise. He loved Elizabeth but things would and needed to be different now.

'I will pay the Pope whatever sum he demands, for that bloody dispensation,' continued Henry, before once again kissing his Spanish bride with such a passion, that it took all his self control, not to take it further. He was not the only for, for the Infanta too was having to suppress the urges in her body as she felt the firm strokes of her King's tongue in her mouth.

'I'm sorry, Your Highness,' came a little cough, followed by a small voice, which interrupted their embrace and caused them to part.

'What?' snapped Henry, annoyed at the interruption from Catalina's maid.

'The Princess Mary would like the Dowager Princess of Wales to read her a bedtime story,' answered Maria, her voice growing in strength as she threw the King a hard look, 'and to say her prayers with her,'

'Of course,' smiled Catalina, moving away from Henry and falling into curtsey as if suddenly remembering that he was her King and she merely his subject, 'if, His Highness will excuse me,'

* * *

'Such a sweet child,' laughed Catalina, as Maria helped her dress for bed. They had just come from kissing Mary goodnight, after Catalina had told her the story of her mother and father's marriage. For some reason, the little Princess found it so very romantic, hearing how Isabella had defied all to marry Ferdinand and had forced Catalina to retell the story twice, 'you know, sometimes when I listen to my little Maria pray, I think how much she reminds me of myself,'

'Hmmm,' sighed Maria, brushing her friend's long, light hair as Catalina sat before the glass, 'though so full of innocence,'

'What do you mean, my friend?' said the Infanta, the laughter gone as she heard the serious tone in her companion's voice, 'ouch,'

'Sorry, Your Highness, it was a little knot,' replied Maria, her voice still sounding distant, ' if you do not mind, Catalina, I think I should sleep in your chamber tonight,'

Turning to face her lady-in-waiting, Catalina tried to study the face of her only true friend, but found Maria's features gave away nothing, other than the emotion of unhappiness. Not that she could think of any reason to cause Maria's anguish-after all the end was nearly in sight. But she had been distant throughout the evening, especially as Catalina had put Mary to bed, not evening attempting a smile. Perhaps the night would give away Maria's secrets, the way it had done when they had been sweet babes, chatting away under the bedcovers until the early hours.

'If you think that is for the best, Maria,' Catalina said, trying to smile, 'then you must,'

* * *

_England was cold. Back home, the young Infanta had heard many stories about the harshness of English weather, about how they could be so cold that the frost would nip at your limbs and bite them so hard that run the risk of dropping off. Catalina had laughed, when others had told her such things, brushing them off as tales, meant to scare children, but now she was not so sure. Lying in her bed in the drafty chamber of Dogsmerfield, Catalina pulled the covers around her and closed her eyes, praying not only for sleep to take her but for her not to be turned to stone by the evening's weather._

_As she whispered the word 'Amen,' and kissed the rosary around her neck, she closed her eyes, but any though of sleep was quickly gone, as she heard the sound of heavy footsteps and shouts echoing around the corridor outside. She could hear her ladies, Maria and Elvira Manuel crying various arguments at a male voice, which was barking orders with force, as his heavy boots stomped down the creaking corridors._

'_Your Highness, I beg you,' squeaked Elvira Manuel, in the tone which always made Catalina wince, as the door to her chamber was flung open. Not knowing what was happening around her, Catalina did the most instinctive thing and pulled the blankets over her head, 'this is not the way things are done in Spain!'_

'_Well woman, this is not Spain, this is England!' snapped the male voice, 'and your precious Princess, is my property and I have every right to see what my hard earned cash has brought-unless Spain has sent me a deformed witch! Now out of my way, woman!'_

_Crushing her eyelids tightly closed, Catalina said a silent prayer as she felt the bed covers ripped off of her and the coldness of the night attack her body. But at the same time she knew that she had no choice, but to face the intruder, (after all, her mother would have done), so after a few seconds, she slowly opened her eyes and with all her courage, stared into his. _

_In the candle lit chamber she saw a man, King Henry, who was of her father's age, staring back at her, but the fact that he was not close to her age made little impression. For as she looked up at the man with reddish hair and piercing eyes, she found a rush of heat surge through her body as she studied the man standing over. He was handsome, but not in the traditional way, for his features were slightly weathered and worn-not that it detracted from their appeal. In fact it only heightened it for Catalina, especially as she noticed that his body was of a man, ready to fight for what he believed in and in that moment she wanted the weight of his firm chest on top of her._

'_You see, Your Highness,' she replied, her Spanish accent heavy as she wriggled deep into the mattress, 'I am no monster,'_

'_No,' said the King, a broad smile appearing on his lips as his eyes studied in detail the warm body, lying before him, 'it seems you aren't….Leave us!'_

_They locked eyes as they waited for Maria and Elvira to leave, then as the door to the chamber slammed shut, both sets of eyes, quickly threw a glance in direction of the noise, to make sure they were completely alone._

'_Your Highness,' gasped Catalina, jumping out of her bed and into the King's arms, not caring if her ladies outside heard her, 'your Highness,'_

'_God, I though those hags would never leave,' muttered Henry, as he wrapped his arms tight around her, pushing her body on to his, 'I...'_

_But he did not have chance to finish, as Catalina placed her lips on top of his and started to kiss him slowly, before passion over took reason. Tongues dancing in each other's throats as Catalina wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to push her body further on to his, wanting to satisfy the hot tingle ran though her body._

'_Your Highness,' she gasped, as he laid her down on the bed, briefly taking his lips away from her as pulled her night shift, which was now sticky with sweat, over her head in one crisp, clean movement. This was the first time any man had seen a hint of her naked flesh, but she did not blush from shame or embarrassment-the opposite was more appropriate, for she pulled Henry down on top of her, allowing him to kiss and caress her exposed breasts._

'_God, I need to take you now,' muttered Henry, his tongue slowly circled the peak of her left breast. As his mouth performed this task, his rough hands, which had been made for fighting, ran down Catalina's smooth body to cup her tender place between her thighs._

'_Your Highness,' cried out Catalina, as she felt the throbbing, hot prickling sensation, which had been driving her to the brink of insanity become satisfied by his fingers, 'H...He...n...nry!'_

* * *

'Oh God, Henry,' sighed Catalina so loudly that she work herself up from her dreams of an alternative past. Her breathing was heavy and her body felt flushed with heat as in the faint candlelight, she saw that she had become entwined in mass of blankets that Maria had placed on the bed for the sake of warmth. Slowly, as her breathing returned to its normal pace, she carefully removed herself from the large bed and tiptoed to the outer chamber, hoping that she did not wake the sleeping Maria.

* * *

_Confiteor Deo omnipotenti, beatae Mariae semper Virgini, beato Michaeli Archangelo, beato Joanni Baptistae, sanctis Apostolis Petro et Paulo, omnibus Sanctis, et tibi Pater: quia peccavi nimis cogitatione, verbo et opere: __mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.__ Ideo precor beatam Mariam semper Virginem, beatum Michaelem Archangelum, beatum Joannem Baptistam, sanctos Apostolos Petrum et Paulum, omnes Sanctos, et te Pater, orare pro me ad Dominum Deum Nostrum._

Kneeling before the gold cross, which her mother had given her at their last meeting, Catalina prayed harder than what she had done in a long while. As her fists beated against her chest as she whispered the most important words of her prayer, her mind raced as she wondered what was happening to her.

All her short life, she had tried to be clean and pure, fighting off every test and proving to God she was worth of his light, but in these past few days, she found herself failing, so that even her dreams where betraying her purity. Marrying Henry...the King... was meant to be God's destiny for her, yet why was it causing her body to feel things that she never experienced before? Was she becoming wanton? For whenever she was around the King or thinking on him, her skin was constantly prickled with heat, the spot between her thighs was weeping with intensity and her bounded breasts were craving another's touch. She expected to love him, in the way a wife should love her husband, but feelings as rough as these could not be love-they were the marks of lust.

'_Amen,' _whispered Catalina as she crossed herself, then slowly raised herself up from the floor, not sure whether to return to bed or go for a night-time walk, but before she could decide, Maria appeared with a look of distress on her face.

'Your Highness,' pleaded Maria, running towards her mistress and grabbing her hand, as Maria fell to her knees, 'I beg you, do not marry the King,'

'Maria, please get to your feet,' smiled Catalina, placing her hands gently on top of her friend's shoulders and trying to get her to rise, only her faithful friend refused to budge, 'this is my destiny, the path God chose for me when he sent me to this isle. My dear friend, after all we have been through, you must see that we have arrived at the promise land,'

Despite her fears, the words Catalina spoke were no lie. This what she had believed since she was a child. It was the physical emotions, which were scaring Catalina, but now was not the time to discuss them. Besides, they were not the things one spoke to others about-not even to their dearest friends.

'The promise land, your Highness... Catalina,' gasped Maria, staring up at her friend in horror, 'you are being fooled. That brute of a man and that witch of a mother seek only to prey on your naivety and use you for their own dirty games!'

Catalina looked at her oldest confidant and the person who she had shared all her secrets with and who in turn, had stood by her during everyone of her troubles, with shock. Maria had always been one to speak her mind , never shying away when asked her opinion. More than once she had let a important courtier or councillor, feel the sharp weight of her tongue but not once had she ever criticised her dear friend. When Catalina had put her foot down and refused to move from the shores of England, declaring she was born to be this nation's Queen, Maria had not complained, as some of the other ladies had done. No, she had defended her Highness' position and declared that she intended to remain by her side until the bitter end-so that for her to voice her objections now, as the light was clearly in sight, shook Catalina's heart.

'You forget yourself,' snapped the Infanta of Spain, forgetting herself as she turned away from her dearest friend, 'he is King and should be treated with the utmost respect!,'

'Utmost respect!' laughed Maria, getting to her feet also, 'may I remind your Highness, that this is the man, who has treated you with nothing but contempt since we arrived on this Godforsaken island and now wants to trick you into his bed!'

'How dare you speak to me thus?' exclaimed Catalina, turning to face her with anger in her face. Any lesson her mother had ever taught her about decorum had suddenly left her body as she found her moments with Henry had lit a fire insider her, which rampaged through her veins and was becoming increasingly difficult to put out, 'I am the daughter of Isabella and Ferdinand, not some…'

'Then I think you should start behaving as one!' retorted Maria, facing her friend and princess with the same amount of anger, 'instead of a common _puta_!'

'_Puta_! My mother…'

'Yes, your mother! And once she hears about your adventures with the King, do you think she will still praise God for you being her daughter? Do you think she will be proud knowing that the child that she bore, was spending her waking hours with her tongue embedded deep in that brute's throat? That you spend your nights on heat, longing for him to impale you!'

Her words were hard and stung Catalina in her heart. These were the fears, which had caused her to wake and were the source of the troubles raging through her body, but hearing them being shouted at her, made it all seem more real and wrong. Maria was right, her behaviour was the mark of _puta_ and if Maria (and of course, Princess Margaret), could see her wanton behaviour, then surely others were not blind to the fact. She had behaving as if she was a common wench, but no more. She needed now to once again be the daughter of Spain.

'Enough!' dismissed Catalina, not knowing how much more she could take as she felt tears start to stain her cheeks and her legs start to weaken, 'that's enough, Maria!'


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you so much for the reviews and to everyone who is reading this story. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter.**

**Quick note-I have used italics when Henry and Roland are speaking in Breton. **

'The King,' stuttered Lord Strange, almost choking on his wine as he reacted to the news, which he had just received, 'the King...Henry...my brother wishes to remarry,'

'Yes,' replied Roland, glancing anxiously at the door. He did not want to be there, no matter how much it pained him to see his mother suffer, he did not want to be revealing the King...his father's secrets, especially as any meeting with Lord Strange, could only lead to plots of regicide, 'I believe that is his plan, though he wishes it to remain a secret...until...until...the dispensation arrives from Rome,'

'Dispensation,' said Lord Strange, chewing over the words, suddenly intrigued by this servant's speech, 'why would my dear brother need a dispensation?'

'Because,' sighed Roland, shaking his head from side to side, 'because he wishes to marry the Dowager Princess of Wales,'

Lord Strange looked Roland up and down, trying to assess whether he was speaking the truth. Everyone, even the King's enemies, had seen how heartbroken their sovereign had been over the death of his White Rose. So to hear that he planned to marry so soon after her departure, was the last thing anyone-whether Lancaster or York-expected to hear. Of course, it could be a trick, for Lord Strange made no secret that he longed to see his half-brother deposed-a fact Henry was not oblivious too.

'Do you speak the truth?' muttered Lord Strange with an air of distrust, 'for if this is a trap, I should warn you, boy, that I will extract a revenge on you, which will have you begging for the devil himself to rescue you,'

'I wish I was, sir,' answered Roland. Since he was a boy, he had longed for his father's love and his mother's happiness, but Roland had always knew it had been a distant dream, it did not stop him from him wishing that he had never followed his father into the chapel, 'I saw them together,'

'Together?'

'Yes,' sighed Roland in reply, wondering how it had come to this, 'they were together in the chapel yesterday morning. His tongue deep in her throat and her in his. And from what I heard from the nursery, it was not the first time,'

'Oh Henry!' laughed Lord Strange, throwing back his head, 'my cold fish of a brother going weak at the knees over some warm blood senorita...well, it must have been some time since he was last between some soft, warm thighs; no wonder, he had some colour in his cheeks yesterday,'

Roland did not say anything, just eyed the door, hoping it was time to make his exit, but as he edged slowly towards it, one of Lord Strange's henchmen blocked his path.

'The thing is, Roland,' Lord Strange said, getting to his feet and approaching the young man, who had started to tremble in fear, 'as tantalising as this gossip is, I fail to understand, why you have felt the need to depart this knowledge to me?'

'Surely you can see,' answered Roland slowly. He was the son of a king, despite his low birth, so for him it was easily to figure out significance of his father putting a ring on the Infanta's finger, (and later a baby in her belly), 'the benefits of him marrying her? Any threats by certain persons to his crown, would be easily erased once he has the might of Spain on his side and a nursery full of babes with a claim to the thrones of Castile and Aragon,'

Lord Strange stopped in his approach as he thought on Roland's words. It was true, the Infanta as Queen of England would make any coup against Henry Tudor a more difficult to coordinate, let alone successful complete. At the moment, it had simply been a question of waiting for the right time to strike, but now things would have to move a lot more faster.

'Well,' he said after a long pause, then indicated for one of his men to place Roland into a chair, 'we shall have to find away to stop my beloved brother from getting her to the altar and you, Roland, are going to help me,'

* * *

Sitting in Greenwich library, Catalina paced the length of the chamber. She had not slept all night, not since her dismal of Maria over her accusations of wantonness. Alone in her chamber, Catalina had cried over the fallout and had prayed constantly over her fears. God had never abandoned her before, so now, as she believed herself being taken by sin, Catalina needed him more than ever but her prayers had so far failed to easy her mind.

Of all the times with the King, had she ever thought herself in love? Catalina had though on the way he made her body feel, but what of the heart? It beat to the point of explosion when she was with him, whether they were talking as they had been in the forest or in an embrace-but was it love? Or was it simply the passions of her body? Was Maria right, was she simply being seduced by the promises of the physical act-something which had been greatly amiss in her marriage.

'Morning, Princess,' called Henry, as he strolled into the chamber, startling Catalina, 'sorry, did I scare you?'

'I am sorry, Your Highness,' whispered Catalina, falling into a curtsy, which was worthy of a daughter of Isabella and Ferdinand as she let her eyes fall on the floor, 'I was deep in thought,'

'You are forgiven, Princess,' smiled Henry, placing his hands on Catalina's shoulders. It was only a gentle touch, but to Henry's surprise, it startled his bride, who jumped in his arms.

'Catalina,' he said softly, as he leaned forward to kiss her, only for her to pull away, 'what the hell as happened? If anyone has hurt you, I'll kill him with my bear hands,'

'No, no, Henry,' calmed the Infanta, taking hold of Henry's hand briefly, before pulling away reluctantly, 'no one has hurt me. Only I fear I have hurt myself,'

Henry examined her with a raised eyebrow, not sure what to make of her words. Last night she had seemed so self-assured and confident, but now she looked so small and fragile, her blue eyes, having turned so grey.

'Princess, you look tired,' replied Henry, putting her arms around her waist, 'you need to lie down and let me call a physician,'

'I do not need a physician,' answered Catalina mournfully, her body trembling, going almost limp in Henry's arms, 'only a confessor,'

'Confessor,' cried the King, pulling her to him, 'don't joke! If you are sick...'

'I am not sick in body,' said Catalina, trying to move, but found Henry's hold too strong, 'but in mind! Your Highness, I am plagued by lusts,'

Henry looked at her, puzzled at first by her words and their deepness-but then, he let out a loud laugh.

'Lusts!' he chuckled, 'lusts! Oh Princess, for someone so passionate, you are certainly innocent!'

Catalina flinched at his words, hurt by his reaction. She was concerned for the destiny of their immortal souls and all he could do was mock.

'This is not something to be laughed at, Henry!' she scowled, still trying to move from his arms, 'our place in Heaven is not something to be mocked,'

'Of course I mock,' replied Henry smiling, 'because these are foolish words-unless you are hiding things from me, Saint Katherine,'

'You are cruel, Henry,' sighed Catalina, disappointed as she finally found the strength to knock Henry's hands away, 'I had thought you changed...do you love me?'

'Don't be ridiculous,' snapped Henry, turning away from her and casting an eye along the many books-it had been awhile since he had cast his shrewd eye over the country's accounts, 'besides do you love me? Or is it the same kind of love, which you had for my son? The love, which you swore for duty sake, but when it came to it, it meant very little,'

Since last night, Catalina had felt her heart full of mournful sorrow but now, hearing her future husband's words made her blood boil. Her and Arthur were different, than her and Henry. She had not loved Arthur, who despite his education, had still been a boy, trained for the throne, but without any experience of love and life.

'How dare you!' she replied sharply, marching over to him and standing behind him, 'of all the low life things and to think I defended you,'

'Well I'm sorry to speak plainly, Princess,' retorted Henry, turning to face her, 'but as I've said, I'm not that clever, so I need to be blunt. Love was never a question over the last few days, so why does it matter now?'

'Because I need to know that our marriage will not be based on the sins of lusts,' said Catalina, her voice not wavering as she spoke, for she had called on God for strength, 'if this is to be God's will, I need to know it's based on something pure. I never lusted after Arthur and neither did we consummated our marriage, and if he had not died, then it would only have been done for the sake of duty. Yet with you, I crave things I never knew I desired. They leave me awake at night, tossing and turning, flustered with heat, so do not mock me, Henry'

Still with her back to him, Henry once again started to laugh, shaking his head from side to side.

'Oh I don't mock,' laughed Henry, turning around to face Catalina, 'far from it. Of all the things I thought you to be, I didn't realise you to be as pious as my mother-but granted, you have a conscious. You know, Elizabeth use to pay others to go to Walsingham whenever she was troubled,'

'But I would go myself,' she answered, biting on her lip. Catalina had always been fond of the late Queen. She had been so kind, when Arthur had died and so caring, when Catalina revealed there was no baby to make Elizabeth a grandmother, so she hated to make it sound as though she was speaking ill of her, 'I want to go to Our Lady myself,'

'Then I will allow,' said Henry, putting his arms around her, 'if you tell me why you came after me that evening?'

Catalina studied the King's face, not sure what to read from his expression. It was not one of mockery, nor was it one of hardness. It was the same expression he wore that night when they had first kissed-and Catalina slowly felt her troubles disappear.

'I followed you, Your Highness,' stuttered Catalina as she tried to look into his eyes, 'because as you yourself said, we are alike, you and I. We are both strangers on a foreign shore, placed here by God and we both have fears, though we deal with them in different ways...'

'Father,' interrupted the Princess Margaret, strolling into the chamber and up to her father, trying to block Catalina from his sight, 'may I speak with you?'

'Of course,' muttered Henry, turning briefly away from the Infanta to look at his oldest daughter. They had not spoken about what she had witnessed the other night, though his mother had reported to him about her rage at Catalina in front of little Mary, the following morning, 'as long as you mind your manners, daughter,'

'Yes, father,' smiled Margaret, in a grin, which mirrored her father's thin smile, 'but as these are matters of Kings, I feel that we should discuss them alone,'

Henry casted a sharp eye over his daughter, before turning his attention to the Infanta, who met his look, before falling into a curtsey, then starting to move towards the door.

'Whatever you wish to say to me, Margaret,' replied Henry, turning back to his daughter, 'you can say in front of Catalina,'

'Catalina,' said Margaret, as her mouth twisted itself into a bitter expression, 'I think father as these matters are of kings things, I think it is only right that they should be discussed privately between the King of England and the Queen of Scotland,'

'And as King of England, Margaret and more importantly as your father, I say you can say what you want to say to me, in front of Catalina,'

Margaret glared at her father, then turned to flash a glimpse of anger at the Infanta, who was slowly, coming back into the chamber. As her former sister-in-law tried to smile nervously at her, Margaret fought to control the urge to strike her father's concubine across the face.

'If I must, father,' she muttered as once again she moved herself in an attempt to block the Infanta from her father's gaze, 'as I am soon to depart for Scotland, I would like to take with me some of mother's jewellery and clothing, as I remind of the love we once all shared as a family,'

Catalina swallowed hard as she heard Margaret's words, which were clearly designed to hurt both her and Henry, but at the same time she fix her expression, to one of resolve.

'I already gave you my blessing, Margaret,' replied Henry, his voice shaking slightly as he spoke, 'you and Mary may divide your mother's belongings between you,'

'I know, father and I am grateful,' continued Margaret, her voice growing in confidence as she sensed a victory-her father was always soft with the mention of her mother, 'but I am speaking more of my mother's royal jewels and acquisitions,'

Henry nodded as he heard his daughter speak. He loved her so much, as a babe she had always been his favourite as she looked and acted just like him, but at this moment, as he realised the manipulative game she was playing, he felt that he should have disciplined her more.

'I see, Margaret, but you do understand that those things are owned by the country, for their Queen,'

'Yes,' echoed Margaret, determined not to fail in her mission, 'but England's Queen is now with the angels and it will be a long time, father, before Harry will descend the throne and his bride will be in need of them. So surely, father, you can see that it is only right that they be worn by a true Queen, instead of them being left to gather dust,'

'Only they won't be, Margaret,' sighed Henry, preparing for her reaction, 'as England's new Queen will be in need of them,'

Margaret's mouth fell open so wide that you could see deep into her red throat, as her father walked away from her and came to stand beside the Spanish Princess.

'Your concubine!,' she screamed at the top of her lungs, 'your mistress! You want to give my poor mother's belongings to your whore!'

'Margaret,' muttered Henry, his beady eyes narrowing as he took hold of Catalina's hand, 'you are making a fool of yourself,'

'The only fool round here is you!' raged Margaret, storming over to her father with her hands on hips and her eyes tightening, so that her face was a perfect picture of her father, 'marrying that dirty trollop, who wishes to call herself Queen, though she is not worthy of the title! My mother was a true queen, beautiful, pure and regal, who was loved by the people! You know father, the moment you put that ring on your harlot's finger, your people will turn against you, the way they turned against Ahab! No person, no matter how low, wants a Queen, who on her wedding night to her young prince was on all fours, whilst her father-in-law...'

'That's enough!' shouted Henry, so loud that Catalina, who was still holding his hand, swore that the windows glass started to shake, 'you want to be a Queen, but the whores in Southwark, would make a better Queen than you, Margaret! And you mention your mother, well let me tell you something, girl, that she would be ashamed of you, both as a fellow queen and especially as a daughter!'

'Ashamed of me!' answered back Margaret, her voice almost matching her father's in rage, 'ashamed of me!'

'Yes, ashamed of you! Your mother would never have dreamed of even thinking those words, let alone speaking them! A Queen has dignity and grace, something Catalina has but you lack!'

'All she has, is the grace to stick her tongue down the right man's throat!'

For a moment, Henry was silent as he kissed Catalina's hand, before letting go. His boots heavy on the stone floor, he walked over to the table and with a sigh, leaned on the finely caved edge. Exchanging glances, Margaret and Catalina wondered what he would do or say next, but then they did not have to wait long for an answer, as suddenly, Henry knocked a pile books crashing to the floor.

'You are my daughter, Margaret and I love you, but my God I am ashamed of you!' he shouted, but with more an air of disappointment at his daughter's behaviour than anger, 'I loved your mother but God took her from us. We need to survive, I need to survive! Live with your own little fantasies, Margaret and find that its a lonely life to led and that your time as Queen will not last! I will marry Catalina and she will be a greater Queen than you. And do you know why, Margaret? Because she is strong, graceful, beautiful, clever and acts with decorum, but more important, she is no brat, demanding her crown because she thinks she has some God given right to it! She knows the importance of being worthy of it. How you need to work at it. How you need to constantly prove that you are worthy of the love of your people and of God. Instead of stamping your well dressed foot, Margaret and acting like a greedy child, you might actually learn something from her!'

Margaret glanced at her father, her mouth once again open, not believing his words, before glaring at Catalina, the source of her father's betrayal. Catalina met her gaze, before breaking away to pray silently to God, her lips moving feverishly as whispered _Pater Noster_.

'I will learn nothing from that holy harlot,' murmured Margaret as she stomped towards the door.

'Then,' whispered Henry seriously, looking at his daughter as he shook his head, 'your time in the Highlands will not last long and it will end unhappy,'

Refusing to admit defeat or at least showing the signs of it, Margaret flung her head up in the air, as she marched towards the door, which she slammed shut behind her as she left with very little grace.

For a moment, neither Catalina nor Henry spoke. In fact Catalina just stared at the floor as Henry paced up and down, but as she listened to the echo of his footsteps and her the thoughts racing through her mind, she decided to break the silence.

'Do you really think that of me, Your Highness,' asked Catalina, breaking her gaze away from the floor and looking up at Henry from under her eyelids. Of all the things she expected the King to say about her, she had not expected him to defend her so passionately against his daughter's poisonous words. After all, Margaret was a Queen, despite her still lacking the crown, and Catalina was still merely a Princess, expected to do any Queens bidding. Despite her being his daughter, Henry was still meant to have accepted Margaret's word over her's, but he had not. The King had jumped to the defence of the mere foreign princess, the same Infanta, who earlier accused him of simply using her and letting her give into the wants of her body, 'or was it simply away of deceiving me?'

'One thing you must learn about me, Princess,' muttered Henry, glancing down at some papers placed on the desk, 'I enjoy control, but I don't play games, nor do I expect others to play them with me. When I say no Lord is to retain their own private army, I expect them to obey…not, like my dear brother George, to openly disobey me!'

'Then you should teach him a lesson,' replied Catalina, joining him by the desk and placing a hand on the paper, which Henry's eyes had fallen on, 'remind him of who is King,'

'Except in his eyes, any fool who walking around the streets claiming to be Richard of York has more right to crown then me,' Henry sighed, turning his back of the papers, before leaning against the desk and glancing out though the plan window, which looked out over the grounds of his palace and beyond its walls, his kingdom. How many out there, be they Lord or beggar, wished to see him gone? But then, how many times had they tried to depose him and yet, he was still here, 'yet as you said, Princess, God choose me that August day and I am still standing. Maybe one day, in the not too distant future, I will have more Tudor heirs stood with me,'

With a light laugh, Catalina went to stand beside him and rested her head against his shoulder, as she too looked out on the Kingdom God was giving her. Once again it was raining, but the Infanta did not sigh and curse the country the way some of her Spanish ladies did; in fact for the first time, she though how beautiful England truly was.

'I still wish to go to Walsingham,' she said, breaking away from the England, 'if of course, I have Your Highness permission?'

'You have my permission,' smiled Henry, turning towards her and placing his arms round her small waist, 'Thomas will escort you,'

'Thank you,' replied Catalina, feeling at peace as she leant forward and let him let him kiss her. Whilst at first she attempted to ignore the fire of her blood as she recalled all that had gone through her head since her confrontation with Maria, she soon forgot, as she let her tongue become buried deeper in Henry's mouth.

'Perhaps love and lust where part of the same workings,' she thought as she pushed her body closer to Henry's, as it once against started to itch with the need to feel another's against it. Her body had not just become hot amidst the many layers of fabric, but her heart was pounding uncontrollable against her rib cage. Surely that only occurred if the person you shared the embrace with, was the one your heart most desired? And what of the weeping, that occurred between your thighs? All night, before and after Maria banishment, the throbbing sensation had caused Catalina to toss and turn, whilst praying for some relief from the heavy craving, which she had started to associate with sin. But then, for a reason Catalina could not think of, as she felt Henry's grip tighten on her waist, the aching seemed to erupted across her body in pleasurable waves, causing her to let out a cry and cling tighter to him.

* * *

Roland watch as Catalina passed him in the corridor, with the young Princess Mary, the two of them singing in Spanish as they held hands, and felt a shedder run up and down his spin as she acknowledged him with a smile. In fact, on the other times when he had been in her presences, she had always been so kind and gracious, always asking how he was. She did not deserve to suffer any more than she already had-she had every right to be granted happiness.

Walking towards his father's study, Roland thought that even the King did not deserve the fate other's were plotting for him. He had hurt his mother and that in turn had broke Roland's heart, but Henry was not in the possession of all the information. Perhaps if Roland revealed to him, that he was the son he created, when he was the exiled Earl of Richmond, the King might find away to help mend Katarin broken heart and for them all to resume their lives without any more pain.

'Yes,' asked Henry, looking up from some papers and to Roland's relief, he saw he was smiling-thought, he had learnt never to take this as a sign that the King was happy.

'Your Highness,' answered Roland, trying to make his voice sound strong, 'My Lady the King's Mother requests your presence in the chapel,'

'Thank you,' Henry nodded, but to his surprise, Roland did not move and continued to hang about the doorway as if expecting more, 'is there anything else?'

'_Your Highness, if I may be so bold,' _Roland finally answered in Breton, deciding now was the best time to reveal his secret to Henry-no, knowing what Lord Strange was planning, this was the last chance he would have before all Hell would break lose, '_is there anything or anyone you miss from your time in Breton?'_

Henry looked at his servant with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Glancing at Roland with his small, round eyes, Henry tried to figure out the motives behind this break with protocol. Yet at the same time, as Roland had spoke that ancient language, Henry had felt his heart flutter. Being King of England was Henry's destiny, but it was not truly home-wherever he went in Albion, home would always be that small haven, which laid across the sea.

'_Much,'_ replied Henry, still not willing to give anything of himself away, _'but why you ask and why should I answer?'_

'_I know you are my King, Your Highness and I a mere servant, who has spoken out of turn,' _gulped Roland, feeling Henry's stare, but on remembering why he was doing this, he found himself able to meet his father's eyes, _'but I, like you, am a stranger on this isle and for many nights, I long for home and the people I left behind. It is very a lonely existence and one that fills my heart with great sorrow. I know, Your Highness, that I have no right to ask or seek comfort from you, but it would be a great comfort to know, that someone, especially a King, understood this suffering,'_

It was a suffering that Henry understood only too well and the loneliness that one endured alongside it. The heartbreak of seeing people and places in your dreams, which had at one point been a natural part of everyday life, was enough to crush even a heart of stone. No one understood this weight, not Elizabeth and neither did his mother. Uncle Jasper had understood his pain to an extent, after all it had been him who had raised him as a son in exile, but Uncle Jasper was a man use to living on his feet and listening to the call of the wind; he was a man who could call any place home if he had too, then move on to the next place without shedding a tear. The only one, who truly understood was Catalina, for she like him, could never return home.

'_Yes, well, you are right there, Roland,' _answered Henry with a surprising amount of warmth, which caused Roland to smile, _'my Uncle use to say that home was wherever there was a cooked meal and a warm bed waiting for you, though I could never understand that theory myself. Good food and a comfortable mattress are not enough, in my mind at least, to feel a man's heart with love,'_

'_Well, if that was the case, my heart would call England home, though my mother cannot understand why my stomach love English food,' _smiled Roland, pausing for a moment as Henry laughed. Now was his chance to reveal the truth. He was not sure what reception he would get when he departed the news to the King of England that he was his long-lost son. Roland certainly did not expect him to throw his arms around him and greet him with love, but he was certain, that he would not be rejected, _'but I do not see how you can call a place home, if you are away from all you love. My mother and I left so many good friends behind and family, that we prayer for them every day. And I left my poor sweetheart weeping in the kitchens of the palace where we both worked,'_

Henry got to his feet and walked towards the window. Something did not feel right, thought he did not detect any hint of malice from the lad, he felt he was sharing too much for it to be natural.

'_Don't leave me, Harri,'_

Looking out over the palace grounds, Henry shivered as he heard a voice from long ago, echo around his head. It had the same tear stained tint to it, which the speaker had had all those years ago. And she had cried, heartbreaking sobs into his arms within moments of those words leaving her red lips. He had not wanted to leave her either, but he had had no choice. He was the last hope of a Lancastrian cause, which had all but been slaughtered on the bloody fields of Towton. Jasper would have slung him over his shoulder and carried him all the way to the waiting ship, if Henry had said he wanted to stay-not to mention, the hell his mother would have unleashed if her son had demand to marry the kitchen girl.

Though it had no always been that way. Jasper had encouraged them, nudging Henry on, as he made lovesick eyes at the pretty girl, who had just placed the basket of freshly baked pastries in front of him. Even when he had caught the two of them in the stables, Jasper had just laughed and winked at his nephew. It was only later, when things at home and abroad became more serious, did his uncle's mood change.

But it had all been for the best. He had been crowned King, he had had good life with Elizabeth and the family they had created. Despite the pain and the heartache, it had all been for the best. He had found happiness and he was certain the dark haired girl with the coal black eyes had found her contentment with the husband, Jasper had found for her. She would have children by now-more children to add to the one he had left her with. He had missed them so much at first, but as the years had fallen by, the pain had become less and less. She, Katarin, had married a good man, who would look after her and give her the life, Henry knew he could never give her-despite the earlier pain, it had all turned out for the best.

'_I miss watching the sunset on the rugged coast line,' _said Henry with a smile, remembering the steps of his youth, _'I miss the green fields, which always seemed golden, regardless of the weather and I miss the castles, whose stone walls have absorbed every ounce of their ancient history. Your mother is correct, Roland, for you must be fool. English food and drink will never beat the sweet taste of Chouchen and galette. Even the air of Rennes will always be far superior to the stale, diseased filled air of London. As for the people, they are warm and friendly, not like the English, who constantly examine you as though you are a creature from Hell. I made many great friends there, people who would never dream of selling you for thirty pieces of silver, but I am fortunate that all those whom I have ever loved and continue to love live with me in this England,'_

Roland felt his heart fall and the blood in his veins start to boil_. 'all those whom I have ever loved and continue to love live with me in this England,' _–he had completely forgotten about his mother and the child he fathered; in fact he had never loved them, his other family, which he had promised to return to someday, when his life in England was over. He had never expected the King to throw away his plan to marry the Dowager Princess and for Henry to suddenly introduce his oldest son to the rest of the court with pride in his eyes, but he had thought at least to hear that the two of them had once been loved. That his mother's unfaltering loyalty and love had not been wasted, that none of her heartache had been in complete vain, but it had all been for nothing. Her anger and want of vengeance had not been misplaced, they had been founded upon a great wrong-a wrong, that was going to be put right, thanks to Roland.

'_Yes, Your Highness,' _said Roland, trying to hide the anger unfolding behind his eyes, which he had inherited from his father, 'thank you, Your Highness...and I am sorry to have spoken out of turn,'

'_Deuet mat oc't,' _answered Henry, with a laugh and rare smile, that even those close to him did not see often, 'but if you ever tell anyone what I told you, I'll ring your neck myself,'

'Of course, Your Highness. If you will excuse me,' Roland replied with a nod of the head, trying to match his King's smile as he left with as much grace as he could manage. Gently, he shut the door behind him as he left, but just as he was about to close the heavy oak, he thought, that briefly he had seen his father look up after him, about to call him back. For a split second, Roland smiled, with the hope that his father was beckoning to him, as if he recalled a lost memory, though alas it was just a trick of the light and Henry's head was once again bent over a document.

'Or I will ring your neck, You Highness,' muttered Roland bitterly, as he returned to the palace's kitchens with the small bottle Lord Strange had given him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Big thank you to everyone, especially TudorGirl910489 and Vain x Life Poetess. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.**

**Just a quick note, there is an interesting interview on the BBC History magazine website by Steven Gunn about Henry VII, which I highly recommend listening to. Plus, I found a very interesting article on Roland de Velville-if anyone's interest, send me a message and I'll track down the link. **

**Happy reading :)**

'Well, well,' chuckled Charlie to his friend, Dixon as the two of the strolled into the kitchen, Charlie with a brace of partridges slung over his shoulder, 'if it isn't the King's bright eyed boy?'

'What do you two bastards want?' asked Roland, continuing with sewing his button back on his doublet, 'isn't there a privy you need to clean out,'

'We have a message for our little French friend,' answered Dixon, as he flung himself down on a stool in front of Roland. They liked teasing Roland, not because they saw themselves as being cruel, but because Roland never made any attempt to join in the fun and games downstairs, preferring to eat his meals, in the corner of the kitchen, rather than sit with the rest of the staff or whilst everyone was singing and dancing, he would sit there reading.

'I'm Breton, not French,' muttered Roland, shoving the needle with such force into the fabric that he pierced his skin, 'bugger!'

'Please accept our heartfelt apologies,' laughed Charlie, throwing the dead birds down on the work top with a heavy thud, 'you know, Dixon, I think that's why our King, has taken a shine to friend here, as he now has someone to speak his strange little language to,'

'Its not strange!' snapped Roland, ever the proud Celtic man, jumping to his feet to defend the land of his fathers, 'it is a tongue more ancient and beautiful than the filth you English speak!'

'And I'm sure the King of England will agree with you,' Dixon said, joining in the laughter as he noticed Roland's cheeks turn red with anger as his already thin lips started thinning-not to mention those eyes getting blacker, 'you know, I think what sealed you being favourite, was you finding the poor, little Princess after she made herself sick on that wine, when Mistress Mary left her alone, so she could be pounded hard by Mark in the stables. What is it, with these noble girls and stable lads-maybe they like the feeling of straw on their bare thighs,'

'What is the message,' asked Roland, putting his doublet on and heading towards the door, wanting to be away from this place as soon as possible-not just because he could not stand Charlie and Dixon, but more out of guilt at what had almost happened to poor Mary. The wine, with the extra ingredient, which Lord Strange had given him, was meant for his father, the King. However, Henry had been called away and little Mary, having been abandoned by her carer, was wandering around the palace trying to find a playmate, and seeing the picture of wine, in youthful innocence had helped herself to the proper adult drink. Thankfully, Roland had found her in time before she drank too much of the tainted liquid and the result had only been a few days of vomiting. The girl was now back to her usual playful self and Roland seemed to, in a move that surprised many, won Henry's favour.

'The King would like to see his favourite pet,' answered Charlie, starting to pluck one of the birds, 'he's playing tennis with the Prince. Must be away of relieving some of that frustration, he's been feeling since the Infanta went on her pilgrimage. Though personally, I think it wrong, lusting after your former daughter-in-law in such a way, not that I would say no to a chance of having that holy harlot on her back. You wouldn't either, would you Dixon?'

Charlie turned expecting Dixon to reply to his fantasy about the young lady, who would soon be their Queen, as did Roland, who was expecting another taunt, but to both their surprise, he remained silent. In fact, he just stared at Roland, his usually laughing blues eyes, seeming to examine the every inch of Roland's face.

'Well,' said Roland, unnerved by the sudden turn of events, made his way quickly towards the door, 'I better not keep his Highness waiting,'

Without looking back, Roland hurried out of the kitchens to the tennis courts, leaving a puzzled Charlie and a stunned Dixon, who continued to look after him.

'Dixon,' shouted Charlie, clapping his hands to bring his friend out of his trance, 'what the Hell is the matter with you?

'Have you ever noticed,' said Dixon slowly, 'how Roland has the same black, beady eyes as the King?'

'Yeah, so,' replied Charlie, throwing a handful of feathers at him, 'its a Celtic blood thing. Now stop being such a churl and help!'

* * *

Nervously, Roland approached the tennis court, flinching every time he heard the bang of the tennis ball. He was racked with guilt over the thought that a young child had nearly died, out of a petty game of revenge, played out by supposed adults and was praying more times a day than normal, for forgiveness of his sins. It was only by chance that he had returned to chamber, he had been heading towards the chapel to reflect on what he was hoping to do his father, when he had heard the little girl voice coming from the room.

'Harry,' he heard, his father say as the racket wacked against the ball, 'I have decided to remarry,'

Roland listened and wondered if his father had always been so blunt or whether it was the responsibilities of being king, which made him so. Either way, very little had altered in his opinion of the man, who gave him life and then promptly left him. He still hated him, especially as he now had to witness, his poor mother, become a broken woman, with mind blackened by the betrayal of her former lover, but Henry's sudden favour of him, had him worried. It was well known amongst those downstairs, that the King never trusted anyone. That he would rarely ask a servant more than once to do his bidding and most certainly never used the same messenger twice in row. So his sudden interest in Roland had everyone in the kitchens talking and Roland constantly on edge-did the King suspect something was not right?

'Remarry, father?' he heard the young Prince - his half-brother – reply, as once again the sound of thunder rang through the air, 'but mother has only just passed,'

'And I will always miss her,' said Henry, with Roland swore a hint of shaky emotion in his voice, 'but we can't have you as the sole heir to the crown, not when there are still many waiting in the wings, ready to undo all my hard work,'

Roland moved closer to the courts, trying to keep himself hidden as he listened into the conversation, wondering if something of what was said, would be of interest to Lord Strange. He may feel guilty for almost hurting the young Princess, but that did stop what he wanted to do to his father and it seemed his half-brother might also agree with Roland's feelings.

'You have me,' snapped Harry slightly as he hit the ball with all his strength, wanting to inflict some damage on his father, 'unless you want to place me in the nearest church!

'You will still be king, boy,' returned Henry, as he hit the shot designed to hurt him, 'but you can't do it by yourself,'

'Why not? You do,' demanded Harry, returning ball, 'so have you decided, Father, over who is to be your next Queen and my mother,'

'Catalina,' replied Henry in his usual blunt manner as he hit the ball back to his son, 'I have asked the Infanta and she has accepted,'

'Catalina,' repeated Harry, dropping his racket to the floor and letting the ball sore pass his ear, then hitting the wall with a bang, 'Catalina. As in my brother's widow? As in my future wife?'

'Harry, you are only twelve,' said Henry, dodging the loss tennis ball as he tried his best to comfort his son. Despite what others though, he loved all his children and would rather die than see any hurt come to them. When he was alone with his thoughts, he would still mourn the loss of Elizabeth, Edmund and Katherine, but for some reason, he had always found it difficult to form a bond with his second son, 'and still a boy. There is plenty of time to find you a wife,'

'I'm closer to her age then you!' shouted Harry, kicking his racket in frustration. He had been in love with the beautiful Princess with auburn hair, since she had arrived on this shore. He had been so jealous of his older brother, that sometimes he thought it would devour him. So when it had been promised that he should have her, when his brother sadly died, he had been overjoyed, but now, his father was once again taking away what was rightfully his, 'she is only eighteen-nowhere near your age!'

'Harry!'

'But that's the only reason you want her, is it not, Father?' laughed Harry, bitterly, 'cause she is young and with a lot of energy for riding,'

'Harry,' replied Henry, with a surprising about of restraint, 'you don't mean that and as your father, I deserve some respect!'

'Well, you do not respect me!,' roared Harry, storming towards the door, 'and do not expect me to call you new wife mother! In fact, do not expect me to call you, father, sir!'

'Harry, get back here!' shouted Henry, but Harry did not turn back and Henry did not feel the strength to carry on with their debate. He had spent too much time with Arthur when his sons had been little boys and Harry had spent too much time with Elizabeth, so that when Arthur, followed by Elizabeth had ascended to Heaven , he and Harry had been left, trying to forge a relationship, out of what was left. Deciding not to follow, Henry scooped up the tennis ball with his racket and using all his strength, smashed it against the wall, 'bugger,'

'Your Highness,' came a small cough, bring Henry out of his thoughts, 'you asked to see me,'

'Mmm,' muttered Henry, before turning to notice his Breton servant, creeping slowly into the court, 'yes. Do you ride, Roland?'

'Yes, Your Highness,' said Roland, nervously as his father approached him.

'Good, good,' repeated Henry, 'come with me, Roland. I have a little job for you,'

* * *

Henry was not sure why he had taken a shine to this particular servant. Perhaps it was because he reminded him of home and he could speak with him, in a language, that none, no matter how close they were to him, could understand.

'I want you to take this to Dowager Princess of Wales,' said Henry, handing Roland a small box and a sealed piece of paper, 'you will find her at Eltham Palace,'

'Yes, You Highness. Do you wish me to leave now?'

'That's what I was hoping,' replied Henry, in a tone, which Roland could not decide whether it was humour or sarcasm. With a brief bow, he hurried towards the door, wanting to inform the King's brother, before leaving, '_oh, and once again, thank you, Roland, for coming to the aid of the Princess Mary,'_

'_It was nothing, Your Highness,' _gulped Roland, _'I only did what anyone else would do,'_

'_Nonsense,' _smiled Henry, '_if you had not found her, when that foolish woman left her alone, I fear she would have drunk more of that spoilt wine and then I do not know what would have happened,'_

Thank God, he believed it was just spoilt wine, thought Roland, hoping that the King, could not hear the loud thudding of his heart, crashing against his rib cage.

'_I was just doing my duty,' _said Roland, as confidently as he could, '_to serve my King and his family,'_

Henry nodded his approval, before turning away to see what correspondences lay on his desk, but as he heard Roland leave, he looked up and watched him go. For a moment, he thought briefly, that the younger man, reminded him of someone, but he could not think whom. Not that he spent much time wondering, as he had met so many people in Breton, it was possible that he had come across a relative of Roland at some point during his years in exile and then forgot about them.

* * *

'Cat!' cried Mary, letting go of her Grandmother's hand as the two of them stood on the steps of Eltham Palace, welcoming the small party, which had just arrived in the midmorning light. Running over to Catalina, who Thomas had just help dismount from her horse, she did not let Catalina much chance to recover from her long ride, as she threw her arms around her, 'Cat! I'm so happy to see you! I have missed you so much!'

'And I have missed you too, my little Maria,' cooed Catalina, kissing Mary on the top of the head, 'now how have you been, my angel. Your father told me in his letter that you had been ill,'

'Oh I was,' replied Mary seriously, looking up at the Infanta with wide, innocent eyes, 'I was so poorly, that I was not allowed to leave me bed for a week, but I was very brave,'

'It is not regal to behave so pretentiously, Mary,' said Lady Margaret, her voice sounding as no nonsense as ever as she joined the little group by the entrance of Eltham Palace. Taking hold of the little Princess' hand, she kissed her stepson on the cheek, before smiling at Catalina, 'Thomas, Princess it is good to see the both of you. I trust you had a productive journey to Our Lady, Princess?'

'Yes, very,' Catalina smiled and graciously went into a curtsy before her future mother-in-law, 'I believe that it is the place most close to God on earth,'

Lady Margaret continued to smile and in a rare show of affection to someone, who was not close family, she leant forward and kissed the Spanish Princess on the cheek. Trying not to register her surprise on her face, Catalina nodded her head to the Queen Mother, hoping that, in the absents of her own mother, she had won some approval.

'I think, Princess, that you and I may on this occasion be of one mind,' replied Lady Margaret, as she turned away and started to lead the small royal party towards the palace, 'now, shall I show you the Queen's apartments?'

* * *

Walking along the corridor, decorated with many fine tapestries, displaying many scenes from the Bible and signs of majesty, Catalina felt her heart start to beat hard in her chest. It had been just under two months, since she had accepted the King's proposal of marriage, but until now, none of it had seemed real. She had slept in chambers, meant for a former Princess of this realm and the plans for marriage had been revealed only to a select few, but today, all that would change. Catalina could see various servants, throw knowing glances at one another as she passed. They must have been gossiping, since they received word that the Queen's rooms, where to once again be opened-which meant if the servants knew, the word must be out amongst the court.

'Cat,' said the Princess Mary, taking hold of Catalina hand with her free one as they walked, 'why are we going to Mama's rooms?'

'I...' started Catalina, before stopping as she felt her heart beat so hard and fast that she feared for a breath moment it would explode. How could she have been so foolish, she thought, looking down at the sweet girl, who was the perfect image of her mother-the woman, Catalina was replacing. And more importantly, she cursed herself, how could she have forgotten, that being with Henry was not just being his wife and fulfil the prophecy of being England's Queen, but she would become a mother to Henry's children too. Margaret knew, but she, surprisingly-perhaps, due to fear from words issued by her Grandmother or in hope that her father would change his mind, had kept quiet, which meant Harry and Mary still were in the dark, regarding the changing situation.

'Would you like me to answer Mary's question, Princess,' asked Lady Margaret, her cold eyes examining the worried expression on the Infanta's face.

'I...no thank you, My Lady, I will answer' replied Catalina, clearing her throat, as she kneeled down to be nearer Mary's height, 'Mary...my little Maria, I have some good news for you. Your father and I, have decided to marry,'

Little Mary looked at Catalina, her innocent face becoming perplexed with seriousness as she tried to take in the information, that her once sister would now be married to her father.

'You are going to marry father?' asked Mary, her face returning slightly to her more gentle features, 'but why? He's so old!'

'I think Henry would prefer the word experienced,' chuckled Thomas to himself, only to find that his stepmother's weighty glare was soon upon him, 'sorry mother,'

'Why?' repeated the Infanta, trying to answer the girl's question as best she could without causing upset, 'well, your father is a good man and I love him,'

It was a simple answer but it was true. She did love him, her pilgrimage to Walsingham had given her a chance to realise that and come to understand the workings of her heart. Love, duty and passion, she had realised on the long journey were the things which drove a person heart and soul. They were the things most needed for a heart to beat in time with God's pattern for this world and they were things God, this time had blessed her with. As she knelt before the shrine of Our Lady, Catalina had felt a light shine on her and she knew God was telling her, that her fears of being consumed by the fires of lusts where simply a test sent for her to unravel; and she had successful conquered them. Perhaps to the world it was difficult to understand. Maria, despite her softening, still did not understand, how she could love a man as controlling, rude and arrogant as the King, but to Catalina he was different. Henry understood the value of life and destiny-the things, which drove her too. Perhaps, they did not share the same strategy, but it lead them to the same path and pushed them both together.

'But you love Arthur,' Mary continued in her serious voice, 'and Father loves Mama,'

'Yes and we always will,' answered Catalina, hating herself for feeling a hint of jealousy, 'but God chose them to be with him, so your Father and I decided it was for the best, to share each others company,'

'So you can look after each other until you go to Heaven too?'

'Well, yes, Mary,' said the Infanta, deciding it best to agree with the young girl, still in shock over her mother's death.

'Do I have to call you, Mama?'

'Your Mama, will always be your Mama, Mary, not even God himself can alter that,' Catalina smiled, 'I can be Cat, if you still wish,'

Mary thought for a moment, her young mind working hard as she considered all the possibilities. Catalina watched her, preying silently, that the young girl, would accept her constant presence in her life.

'Mama is Mama, so I like you to be _madre_ if you don't mind,' she finally said, with a beaming grin, 'so will I have more brothers and sisters to play with?'

'Hopefully,' replied Lady Margaret icily, interrupting the Infanta as she started to move her lips. Turning away from her family, she walked the extra few paces to where the grand, tall double doors stood. Without glancing back, she produced a key from her sleeve and placed it in the lock, twisting it until she heard the bolt move. To the world, Lady Margaret Beaufort looked such a small woman, with the strength of a sparrow, but at that moment, she swung open the heavy, stiff doors to the Queen's apartments without any trouble, 'welcome to your new home, Princess,'

* * *

'Once we get the shutters and windows open,' said Lady Margaret, issuing orders to the servants, who were rushing around, trying to make the until recently sealed apartments, more appealing to their new occupant, 'it will be a lot more welcoming,'

'Yes,' nodded Catalina, in agreement as she could already see as the servants started to throw back the shutters, letting in the light, how the decorative place was, 'it is very beautiful,'

'Mama always said the same,' chirped Mary, as she ran through the chamber, excited to be home.

'Now, we need to talk about practicalities,' Lady Margaret said as she came to stand by Catalina's side, 'now, we will need to decided on who will make up your household. Who will be employed in what capacity and which ones of your ladies will stay and which will return home to Spain,'

'Spain?'

'Of course. The Queen of England cannot be seen surrounding herself with foreign ladies,'

Catalina looked at her future mother-in-law and tried to keep her face neutral, but she knew her expression gave away, her horror at what she was suggesting. These ladies where her friends, (well, all except Elvira Manuel) and more than that, they were her last link with the land of her birth.

'I think,' said Catalina slowly, 'I should speak with his Highness. When is he arriving?'

'Unfortunately, the King, given the sensitivity of the situation, feels he should stay away for a while, it does not look good for appearances, especially as we are still without a dispensation. And...Mary, Mary, put that vase down!'

She watched as the older woman, chased after her granddaughter, and felt her stomach churn, as the ghost of Elizabeth hovered at her shoulder. Lady Margaret would have made a good politician, but Catalina could read between the lines-she knew why Henry had not come to greet her. Elizabeth, the former Queen, had been so kind, that Catalina hated herself for feeling even a hint of jealousy towards her. Perhaps, if things had been different with Arthur, she would feel the same as Henry and understand, that one did not accept so easily God's will. And perhaps, if the Queen had not been so kind and loving towards her, Catalina could easily make the transition, from Princess to Queen of England. She could take charge of these rooms and make them her own, instead of feeling, as she stared at the large bed, tapestries and carved chests, as though she was walking in dead woman's shoes.

'Your Highness,' whispered Thomas, coming over to Catalina's side, 'are you well? You have gone quite pale,'

'I am well, but it is just,' sighed Catalina, as she sat down in the window seat and turned to look out of the window, smiling briefly as she felt the warm sun on her face, 'it feels so cold. As though I am walking in another person path,'

With a smile, Thomas sat down beside his soon to be sister-in-law, glancing around the chamber, making sure his mother was nowhere in earshot. They had grown close on their journey to Walsingham, spending the evenings in conversation over dinner. He had enjoyed listening to her memories of Spain, in particular the stories of the wonder, which was the almost mythical city of Granada, whilst at the same time having to candidly answer the questions as to the reason why he had yet not taken any steps on the path to matrimony. Yet despite her awkward questions, Thomas found himself drawn to her and could clearly see, what attracted his brother to her. They both seemed almost certain of their destinies, yet if you looked closely, in their eyes you could see that behind those sure looks, lied something, which only those who shared their convictions could unlock.

'You of all people, Your Highness,' said Thomas, looking at her as he was certain they were not being listened to, 'understand that the notion of majesty carries on regardless of death and outlives us all, to be passed on the next generation,'

'I know,' replied Catalina softly, remembering one of the first lessons she had learnt at her mother's knee, 'but I never expected the harshness of this. The Queen was so kind to me and so considerate for my welfare, that it feels almost a betrayal me being here. Besides, how would it seem to the country, if the King cannot bring himself to visit the Queen's apartments?'

'You of all people are aware, that the King…Henry is not made of stone,' continued Thomas, taking hold of her hand and squeezing it, in a small gesture of reassurance, 'he has feelings, though he tries to deny it. You just need to give he him time…if not, just have a word with mother. She will then drag him here by the scruff of his collar,'

Catalina laughed lightly at Thomas' remark and for a moment her eyes seemed to brighten, as she though on the image, knowing it was probably closer to the truth than most people would believe.

'Besides,' said Thomas in a whisper as he gently pulled Catalina to her feet. Keeping an eye on his step-mother, who was busy ordering a poor serving girl around and his niece, who was now sat quietly in chair reading a book of Aesop's fables, he guided Catalina into the corridor, pulling her close to him, 'as much as I loved Elizabeth and may she rest in peace, I always believed...she did love and care for Henry deeply, but I was always under the impression, that she would have been that way regardless of whom she married. That there was nothing truly special about my brother, it just that he happened to be the man, they married her off too. I believe, and it is only rumours mind, that if she had been wedded to her uncle, she would have behaved and acted in exactly the same way,'

Catalina looked at Thomas, not sure what to make of his words. She had always thought their marriage to be so happy, well that's was the impression she got from seeing the King and Queen together on her wedding day to Arthur. But then, technically Elizabeth would not have been lying about her love, as it was a love and affection built for family, not for passion and for some reason this put Catalina fears, slightly at easy.

'Just promise, you will never repeat my words to Henry,' smiled Thomas, kissing Catalina's hand, 'for he will have me going the same way as Lord Hastings, if he knew. Though I do believe Elizabeth was good for him at that moment in his life, the way I believe that you are good for him now, because whereas as Elizabeth just smoothed his troubles, you understand them,'

Catalina smiled and leaning forward, she kissed him on the cheek, before sitting down in the window seat and watching spring starting to appear over the English garden. It was strange, the way the English seasons changed, creating new life once the rains had subsided-perhaps, soon when the dispensation from the Holy See arrived, her life in this strange country would once again bloom.

'You care for him deeply, don't you' smiled Catalina warmly, 'for Henry, I mean,'

'He's my brother,' shrugged Thomas, sitting down beside her, 'of course, I care for him deeply,'

'But he is Lord Strange's brother also,' replied the soon to be Queen of England, who always felt unnerved by the way her future husband's oldest step-brother would grin at her, whenever they passed each other at court, 'and yet I get the feeling, that he would rather that your father had chosen another path,'

'George...Lord Strange cannot let go of the past,' said Thomas, sounding slightly distant, 'he seems to hunger for a glory, which he could not and should not possess. This country and its people have suffered so much because of a small group bickering over which one is more God anointed and its time for peace. People may grumble about Henry but he is a good King. He keep the country together, whereas those born in a closer light to the crown have caused nothing but divisions and war. Besides, I have never understood why people forsake the quiet life. Surely, dying in your bed, surrounded by those you love is a better end, than having it all ended on a muddy field, your bent and broken body being left to decay among a mountain of other dead,'

'You know, Thomas,' replied Catalina, taking hold of his hand and gently squeezing it, before letting go, 'I am glad you will be my brother and when you are my brother, you must let me find you a wife. You will make a wonderful head of a family,'

Thomas laughed nervously, running out of excuses to use when his new friend approached the subject of matrimony. That was another thing, which grew his attachment to his step-brother-for Henry never approached the subject.

'Uncle Thomas!' cried Princess Mary, running into the hall, her porcelain cheeks red with colour, 'Grandmother said you can take me to the stables and feed Aggie! Please, say you will take me! Aggie must have been so lonely since God called Mama to him. Please say you will take me, please,'

'Of course, I will Mary,' said Thomas, getting to his feet and kneeling down so he was level with his niece, 'and I tell you something, if you can beat your old uncle to the stables, I might even let us take her for a ride,'

Excitedly, the young Princess swirled, as she jumped up and down before picking up her skirts and running down the corridor. But as she reached the door, she suddenly stopped and ran back to where Thomas and Catalina were stood.

'Cat you must come to,' she chirped, grabbing hold of Catalina hand and starting to pull her towards the door, 'after all, Aggie will be your horse now, so you should come and meet her!'

'Of course, my little Maria,' laughed Catalina, happy that Mary, unlike her sister, was willing to accept her former sister-in-law as her new step-mother, 'it will...

'Her Highness, will join you later, Mary,' called Lady Margaret, appearing in the doorway, her small eyes examining Catalina, 'but at the moment I would like a quiet word with our future Queen,'

* * *

'I think we all made a few mistakes with your first marriage, do you not agree, Princess,' smiled Lady Margaret, as she sat down on the Queen of England-Catalina's bed, 'please, sit with me,'

Cautiously, Catalina joined the Queen Mother in perching on the edge of the large royal bed. She was never sure what to make of her future mother-in-law, when she started speaking to her in such a kind manner; perhaps she was simply trying to be nice to her future daughter...but then again, it could be one of her little traps.

'I am afraid, Lady Margaret,' replied Catalina slowly, 'that I fail to understand your meaning. It was simply God's will that Arthur died,'

'I know, Princess,' said Lady Margaret, her voice sounding slightly broken as she crossed herself in memory of her departed grandson, 'but I speak in terms of dates,'

'Dates?'

'Yes, dates,' continued Lady Margaret, a smile still on her thin lips as she ran a hand absently over the dark red blanket with patterns of gold flowers stitched on the expensive fabric, 'I have been wondering in the past month, why it was that a good, strong, healthy girl, such as yourself, failed to fall pregnant within six months of marriage,'

'You know why,' whispered Catalina, feeling slightly ashamed as she looked away from the Queen Mother, but knowing that whatever lapses of duty there had been in the past, they had been painful lessons to learn from, 'but it will be different this time,'

'My son is a full grown man, not a nervous boy, so I have no doubt that your wedding night will be sent in a very different manor this time around,' replied Lady Margaret, with not a hint of any emotion, as she got to her feet and started pacing the chamber, her small shoes, making no sound as she paced, 'do you know, Elizabeth fell pregnant on her wedding night?'

Shuffling uncomfortable on the bed, Catalina felt the weight of the former Queen, once again on her shoulders. Despite Thomas' words and the reassurances from Henry that he wished to marry her because she was nothing like his late wife, she knew that Lady Margaret would not be the only one drawing comparisons. She would be surrounded by ladies-in-waiting, who would whisper behind their hands, how their old mistress would never have behaved in such away as their new; and it was not just them. There was the rest of the court, the servants and the people, all wondering how Queen Katherine would fare in succeeding Queen Elizabeth.

'And a boy as well,' continued the Queen Mother, pausing for effect as she glanced briefly at the Princess, hoping that her worried looking face was taking in her words of "advice," 'now, are you courses regular?'

'Yes, but I...'

'Good. And they appear at the same time each month?'

'Yes, but I...'

'Good, good,' repeated Lady Margaret, as she continued in her pacing, 'now as a woman is at her most fertile in the days after her courses, I will arrange the wedding for then, once the dispensation has arrived,'

'You want to arrange my wedding day around my courses,' asked Catalina, looking at her future mother and trying not to flinch-after all, her parents had driven the Moors from Spain, surely she could face down one woman, 'but I will have a child this time, because things will...'

'Be different this time...so you keep saying, Princess, but we need to make certain that they will be,' stated Lady Margaret, with warmth once again in her voice as she rejoined Catalina on the bed, 'now I have spoken with your physician and he says that you are more than capable to bear a child,'

'You spoke to my physician!' exclaimed the Princess, not knowing why she was so surprised-after all, she had done the same when she had married Arthur.

'Of course, you are marrying my boy. It is a mother's right,' said Lady Margaret, forgetting, briefly, that her boy was not only a man, but the father of a family, 'and I know you want to make him happy; to make him proud of you,'

'He is proud of me,' returned Catalina, with an air of defiance, which would make Isabella proud, 'the King...Henry is very proud of me. He would not want me for his wife and Queen, if he did not feel so about me,'

Lady Margaret, much to Catalina's annoyance, let out a little and surprisingly playful laugh. Poor innocent girl, she thought, so naive, so believing that men were driven by their hearts and not by their groins.

'I will speak plainly, Princess,' she said, still with a little laugh, 'my son is still a man, regardless of the crown he wears on his head and he is also a man, who did not enjoy much of a childhood. He spent years fearing for his young life and when he found himself free of that fear, he found himself constrained by duty. But now that duty has gone and he can do as he pleases, in replacing that duty. And you are here, you are young and you are very pretty-of course, he was going to let his eye fall on you, (Lady Margaret failed to mention that this had always been her intention). I see the way he looks at you, when he thinks no one can see. His looks are of a man wondering what lies beneath your dress and not whats in your heart. I too see the looks you give him. Now, they are looks of love and devotion. Your looks are constant, whereas Henry's will one day fall, unless you can give him what he most desires...a nursery full of heirs, to make my...our life's work secure.

Composing a neutral expression, Catalina lied back on the pillows of her new bed and reflected that _Y Ddraig Goch_ was not the only dragon to have ever resided in Wales.

'Now I think, I should leave you to think on the matter,' continued Lady Margaret, leaning forward and kissing Catalina on the cheek, before getting to her feet, 'now I better make sure Thomas has not let Mary ride off into the sunset,'

* * *

Despite wanting to join Mary and Thomas, Catalina continued to lay on the bed and stared at the canopy, which encased it. Deep in thought, she did not noticed the servants moving around her, unpacking trunks and placing the various items in to the old oak chests. Lady Margaret thought she left her to ponder on her words-but she was wrong. She knew the King did not just want to marry her because of the service she could do him between the sheets-after all, he had had the opportunity to have taken her several times, when they had been together, but he had not. In fact, he had never approached the subject and at night had not once tried to pull her to a bed chamber, but had let her retire alone with her ladies or with the Princess Mary.

No, what occupied Catalina's mind was Lady Margaret herself. The Queen Mother would soon occupy every corner of her life and she would have to share everything she loved and wanted with her. Catalina would not deny that she respected the lady, who had risked everything for her beloved son, as it had taken immense courage and faith in God to see it through. But what bothered her was Lady Margaret's possessive streak, as though she could not bear the thought of having to share her boy's heart and mind with someone else. Perhaps Elizabeth had been happy to sit in the background and be a simply wife and mother, but Catalina would not be and Henry knew this, it was the reason he wanted her as his wife and Queen-though she knew Lady Margaret was not going to stand by and let Catalina dominate. But did Catalina have the strength to fight her?

'Your Highness?'

'Mmm,' said Catalina distantly as she came out of her thoughts and saw Roland standing in the doorway, his clothes bearing the hallmark of travel, 'Roland, please come in,'

'The King has sent me to deliver these to you,' he replied solemnly, as he bowed, before approaching her and handing her the package.

'_Trugarez, _Roland_' _said Catalina as she took the package, '_Penaos eo ar bed ganit ?_

'_Dreist, trugarez dit,' _answered Roland in a state of shock as the Spanish girl spoken in Breton, 'your pronunciation is very good, your Highness,'

'Thank you,' she smiled softly, 'Hen...the King taught me,'

Roland shuddered as he heard the warmth in her voice as she mentioned his father. Taking a step back, he watch from under his eyelids as the Infanta broke the seal of the letter and read it slowly, a small smile creeping on to her face as she did so. Roland guessed that she reread the letter about twice, before placing it on her lap and with a little click of the fasting on the box, she lifted the lid and he saw her eyes become brighter as she lifted out the jewelled item.

Edging in a tiny bit to be closer to where she sat, he watched as she held up the tiny brooch. It was a dragon, in the model of the emblem of Wales, but instead of it being decorated in the traditional red, the jewels encrusted on it's metal, were of the reds and golds of the Crown of Aragon.

With her beautiful face full of joy, Roland watched as the Princess, pinned the brooch on her dress, then let her finger tips gently run themselves over it. Gulping, he hastily looked away as he knew that this time tomorrow, the young woman's happiness would be at an end.


	12. Chapter 12

**Big thank you to all my readers and for all my reviews. Also sorry to TudorGirl910489, I know I said yesterday that I would not have this chapter ready before I went on holiday, but I couldn't sleep last night, so managed to finish it.**

**Its a bit short and sweet this chapter, but I will made up for it with the next, where a certain wedding might take place ;)**

**This chapter is based around Isabella comments that a marriage between her daughter and Henry VII would be 'a very evil thing-one never before seen, the mere mention offends my ears.' Happy reading.**

Gingerly, Roland tiptoed towards the stables, dreading what he might find there. The plan had been for the archer to hide amidst the hay in the loft, ready to catch his father as he went on his early morning ride around the Palace grounds. He had not slept all night, tossing and turning amid the knotted bed sheets, his mind plagued with images of Hell. Roland had known all along, that what he was helping with was against the natural laws of God-not that the King had any kind of father to him, but it was still an unholy act to kill an anointed King and one that if he did not live long enough to repent, would see Roland's immortal soul twisted over the burning coals for eternity.

'Help!' he heard a cry, which sounded like Dixon coming from the stables, 'help! Murder!'

Composing himself, Roland managed to suppress the nausea in his belly and the pounding in his head, before running to the stables. He had been practicing his look of shock as he met with the bloody scene all evening, but as he ran through the wood doors, he realised he had no need for pretending as what he met with in the Royal stables, almost caused his legs to give way.

'Help me!' shouted Dixon, who was bent over Charlie, blood oozing from his shoulder, which had a long, thin arrow protruding from it, 'I think he's dead!'

'He ain't dead,' groaned Charlie, trying to get to his feet, but only the pain stopped him and caused him to fall back, 'just in bloody agony! Now are you two bastards going to help me or just gulp at me like fishes!'

Shaking himself out of his shock, Roland bent down and with the aid of Dixon, helped Charlie, complete with the arrow still embedded in his shoulder, to his feet. Due to the blood lost, Charlie had become extremely week, meaning Dixon and Roland had to struggle with his heavy bulk alone as they made their way to the door.

'Where is the King?' Roland asked through gritted teeth, as he wished the assassin had mistakenly hit one of the lean stable boys, rather than bulky cook, Charlie.

'Ain't you heard,' replied Dixon in a strained voice, as he too was struggling under his heavy load, 'the Spanish ambassador arrived late last night. There was a shouting match...well it was pretty one sided really, as it was just His Royal Highness tearing strips off the poor bugger, then he stormed off at the crack of dawn this morning,'

'So he did not leave at the normal time?' asked Roland as naturally as he could without arising suspicion.

'Does it look like he did?' choked Charlie, hoping that today was not his last day on earth, 'if he had, he'd be the one with a bloody arrow sticking out of his shoulder! Lord knows he's the one who deceives it! Christ, thats the last time I offer to feed the horses!'

* * *

Henry could hear them, before he could see them. As he marched through Eltham's splendid gardens, which were starting to bloom as the summer drew nearer, he heard the sweet voice of his youngest daughter singing loudly amidst the trees, her young chirps gradually being joined by the exotic voice of his fiancée.

_When that they came before the Queen,_

_They fell on their bended knee:_

'_A boon, a boon! our gracious queen,_

_What you sent so hastily.'_

'_Are you two friars of France?' she said,_

'_Which I suppose you be;_

_But if you are two English friars,_

_Then hanged you shall be.'_

'_We are two friars of France,' they said,_

'_As you suppose we be;_

_We have not been at any mass_

_Since we came from the sea.'_

'_The first vile thing that ere I did_

_I will to you unfold;_

_Earl Martial had my maidenhead,_

_Underneath this cloth of gold.'_

Under any other circumstances, the sound of these two ladies singing, would have helped easy Henry's black mood and caused his heart to lift with joy, but the news of the previous evening had caused his mind to be possessed by such dark clouds, that even hearing their sweet voices could not lift it.

'Henry,' greeted Thomas with a smile, appearing at his brother's side, only he soon found it difficult to keep up with Henry's pace.

'Remember whose King, Thomas,' snapped Henry, without glance at his step-brother as he stormed through the garden, in the direction of the Infanta and the other ladies.

'Yes, Your Highness,' answered Thomas, his reply trying to hide the hurt he felt every time his brother would turn cold and pull rank over him, 'the Dowager Princess of Wales will be happy to see you,'

But Henry did not reply, continuing in his hurry pace to where the group of women where sat, the two Princess playing and singing as they were watched by the Queen Mother with her small, beady eyes.

It was Catalina, who noticed him first, though she coyly looked away as she saw him approach. With a smile, she turned her head and looked over at the small lake, counting the number of orange fishes, which she saw hover just below the calm surface. Thomas was right, she thought, touching the dragon brooch, which held the edging of her thin black cloak in place, he did come in time and much sooner than she expected.

'Father!' cried Mary, running away from Catalina and her grandmother to her father, not noticing his mood as she threw her arms around his waist, 'you staying for lunch? Madre and I are going riding later, will you come with us?'

'Madre?' asked Henry with a raised eyebrow, looking at his daughter, who returned the gaze in a look with caused Henry to see a version of Elizabeth flash before his eyes. For a moment, he felt his anger briefly subside and be replaced by a mournful grief-perhaps, the letter delivered by the Spanish Ambassador was a punishment for putting aside his widower's black for the arms of another, (younger) woman so quickly after his wife's death.

'Madre...mother,' said Catalina with a smile as she approached Henry and Mary, her blue eyes looking warmly into Henry's coal black, causing Henry to feel another flood of emotions. Watching as Mary let go of him and returned to Catalina, taking hold of her hand and resting her against her former sister, he felt anger and remorse, become substituted with sadness, as he realised what he could lose by the time the sunset, 'Mary...the Princess Mary has decided to, on our marriage, to call me Madre...Spanish for mother. If of course, we have Your Highness' permission,'

Henry watched as she swept herself down into a perfect curtsy, her body not once trembling as she fell into the ridged conformity of respect. As he had been in the days leading up to their first embrace, Henry found himself having to look away from her with a gulp in his throat as she dipped. But it was not simply the curves of her body, which Henry could see peaking through the opening of her cape, which caused his throat to become dry. No, it was the flash of her eyes, with which she looked up at him in a gaze that seemed to suggest both love and desire for him in one longing look.

'Well, Catalina is going to be my new mother,' chirped Mary, smiling first at Catalina then at her father, 'but Mama is Mama, so Cat is going to be my Madre,'

'Thomas, can you take Mary, please,' said Henry, trying to made his voice sound as calm and collected as he could, but it still came out as strained, alerting all around that things were not well with the King.

'Of course, Your Highness,' replied Thomas, taking hold of his niece's hand, knowing it best to get away from Henry as quickly as possible once the storm clouds had started to gather, 'come Mary, let us going and see if the kitchen has any sweetmeats for us,'

'Are you angry, Father?' asked Mary, concern now itched on her young features as her uncle started to lead her away from her father, grandmother, Catalina and some of her future stepmother's ladies.

'Not with you, sweetheart,' whispered Henry with a smile for his daughter, but his eyes looked away from her and on to the Infanta, who jumped slightly in fear that the anger was meant for her.

* * *

'No, no,' said Catalina, reading her mother's words to the Spanish Ambassador, 'there must be some mistake. My mother would never forsake my happiness,'

'Well, its seems she has, Princess,' replied Henry with his usual bluntness, though Lady Margaret noticed that he spoke with a surprising amount of warmth, 'she wants you to return to safety of Spain. Away from my groping arms and lusting eyes,'

'She does not say that,' whispered Catalina, flashing her eyes up at Henry, 'my mother is just worried about me. She wants what is best for her children,'

Catalina knew her words were true. Despite Isabella's formidable reputation, she was still a caring and loving mother, who wished her children to be happy in the path God had chosen for them. Yet, in the pit of her stomach, the youngest daughter of Europe's most admired Queen, felt despair at her mother's actions. Since she was old enough to understand, her mother had taught Catalina that she was born to rule the country of England, but now as the chance was almost in sight, her mother was taking her chance of happiness and destiny away from her.

'And I'm not what's best,' muttered Henry, kicking the dirty of the ground, in the same manner in which yesterday Harry had kicked his tennis racket, 'in fact, I offend her ears!'

'That's not what she means!' replied the Infanta, finding herself torn between being a daughter of Spain and a daughter of England, 'she just means, the notion of us marrying given are closeness of our relationship, but once the Pope...'

'And will she listen to him?' interrupted Lady Margaret, almost gliding as she came to stand by her son's side. Her beady eyes, shooting darts at the young woman, whose mother was not only blocking Lady Margaret plans, but was causing her darling boy much hurt, 'for does your mother not believe that God speaks to her personally?'

'And do you not believe same, My Lady?' returned Catalina, her tone pretty icily at Lady Margaret's slight on her mother's character, before she turned to Henry, reaching out for his hand, 'and believe me, Your Highness...Henry, when I say, I have never done or written anything to my mother, to have encouraged such views,'

Henry looked at her and saw in her crystal blues eyes that tears were starting to swell. It surprised him slightly to see her feeling the same hurt and distress as he. After all, she was still young-only eighteen years old- and possessing a beauty that would make even the most chased monk, reconsider his vocation. She would be a prize for any Prince in Christendom, who her parents could still marry her off to, from right under his noise; and he could not have that, not just because it would wound his pride, but his heart would crack and it seemed her would too.

'Shall we go for a walk?' he finally said after a while, taking hold of her hand. With a small smile, Catalina gave a nod of her head in agreement, as Henry tucked her hand under his arm. Calmly the two of them started to walk through the Palace grounds, but as Henry noticed Catalina's ladies-in-waiting following them, he started to feel his mood once again turn black, 'leave us!'

'I do think that wise, Your Highness,' answered Elvira Manuel, not flinching as she met the King's dark gaze, 'it is not the way things are done in Spain,'

'Tell me, Madam,' snapped back Henry, his mind still raging against this woman, who had caused him nothing but grief since she had arrived in his country and tried to block his way on his mission to see his bride...his daughter-in-law, 'since when was this country Spain?'

'I am merely stating a fact, Your Highness,' she replied coolly, still not showing any hint of emotion as the Queen Mother approached at her shoulder, 'and given the current situation, I think it wise that yourself and the Infanta make sure you are above reproach,'

Henry felt his blood start to boil, over being given instructions from a woman, who was no better than the fishwives, which hung around the market place, discuss their menfolk and attacking any poor maiden, who crossed their path, in a manner they though unsuitable. But to his surprise, it was Catalina who let her anger show.

'And what current situation are you speaking of?' cried Catalina, letting go of Henry's hand as she rushed towards her duenna with as much force as she had used the night when she had pushed herself into Henry's bedchamber, 'is it the situation that truly exists or it is the one which you created in your letters to my mother!'

As Henry and Elvira Manuel had exchanged words, Catalina's mind had been working. How could her mother have formed such low opinions from her daughter's letters to her, in which Catalina had spoken nothing but kind words. They had been nothing but words of reassurances, to ease her mother's troubled mind. Words that had spoken of the fulfilment of the destiny, the path her mother had laid for her when she was still a babe in arms and of her being more than happy in her plans to marry the King-in fact, more than once in her letters, Catalina had used the word 'love'.

'I have told your mother nothing but the truth,' said Elvira, with an arrogant air as she stared at the Princess, 'how since you have arrived on this Godforsaken mound of dirt, your behaviour has been nothing short of wanton! I know about your secrets embraces, which are probably more than a case of lips touching. Not to mention the happenings before your marriage!'

'Before my marriage!' echoed Catalina, trying to cool her temper into a manner, which would mirror her mother, only it was increasing difficult given the nature of her fight, 'you know the same as I, the same as all, what happened before and after my marriage and by the Virgin, there was nothing there of the nature of which you speak,'

'Is there not?' laughed the Duenna, supposedly Catalina's substitute Madre, 'do you not recall your first meeting with your beloved, (though I speak of the one living, not the poor boy in the ground), when he forced his way into your bedchamber! I saw the looks that passed between the two of you as you worn nothing but your nightgown!'

'You saw nothing, but only what your mind wants you to see!' replied Catalina, her voice cooler now, but maintaining a sharp edge, which seemed to raise a small smile on the stone face of Lady Margaret, 'only images, which will advance your standing in my poor mother's eyes,'

'Your mother trusts me completely,' smiled Elvira, trying to reach out and take the Princess' hand, 'which is why you should too and cease with all this nonsense. Let us return to Spain, where…'

'Where you can bask in a glory you do not deserve,' said Catalina, knocking away her hand and returning to Henry, who had also been watching her closely, 'well, I will write again to my mother and put her mind at rest. And if that is not enough, then I will write again and again, every hour of everyday if I have too and if that is not enough, I will travel to Granada myself! Anything to prove you are nothing but a liar and that I am a true daughter of Spain and of England,'

'And even if your mother does believe your words and you become Queen' continued the older lady, her smile altering into a taunting grin, 'do you think the people of this country will love you? For I can tell you, they will laugh at you in even the lowest tavern! Laughing and mocking to high Heaven, the incestuous Princess who now sits on the throne besides the Pretender!'

Henry went to speak, ready to roar at the woman, who had shown not only him disrespect, but also Catalina. He was about to shout that he would make sure that this woman would be forbidden to place a foot in any court in Christendom ever again, but before he had the chance to speak, his future Queen spoke the words for him.

'You think my mother a fool and me a simple girl, but you are much mistaken! My father see's through you and I will fight every inch of the way to make sure my mother will see you for what you are!' said Catalina, her voice full of strength and conviction as her anger drove her on, 'you know the truth of my marriage as does everyone of this country's people and they know that I will serve them with the grace and dignity, which they deserve. And I will be Queen, next to a King God chose to rule this land above all others!'

'But it is a long path from being the Dowager Princess of Wales to being Queen of England-anything could befall you and your beloved,'

'True,' replied Catalina, with her head tilted to the side as if she was briefly in thought, 'but as things currently stand, I still am and will be married to Henry Tudor. The Pope will grant us a dispensation and my mother will give me her blessing. Therefore, with his Highness' permission, I would like to issue my first command?'

She glanced over at Henry , who, chewing on his bottom lip, gave a nod of the head in approval.

'Thank you, Your Highness,' she smiled, before returning to her duenna, once again with a look of seriousness, 'Dona Elvira Manuel you are dismissed!'

'You! You foolish girl!' cried Elvira in such a high pitch that Thomas and Mary heard her from the kitchens, but it had no effect on her former charge, who continued on her walk with the King, 'you cannot do this?'

'I believe she just did,' said Lady Margaret, pouncing on the losing woman, 'and if you do not alter your statement, then get off our country as soon as God wills it, I will personally make sure you rot with the rats in the belly of the Tower. Now, I suggest you remove yourself, before I alert the guard,'

Elvira turned to the Queen Mother, her eyes still on fire, over her treatment on this island-did none of them not know who she was and how highly Isabella held her?

'Well, then I go!,' she snapped, picking up her skirts, 'and I will take all my ladies with me!'

'Your ladies,' cried Maria, coming forward with her hands on hips, 'we are not your ladies,'

'I think your find...'

'We are not your ladies,' continued Maria, who despite her earlier arguments, over her mistress marrying the King, would always stand by her Princess, regardless of the trouble surrounding her, 'we are Catalina de Aragon's ladies and wherever our mistress goes, we will follow!'

Elvira went to argue with the younger lady, but Maria meet her raging eyes, with an equal fierce determination. Instead, Elvira threw her head up in the air and stormed back towards the Palace, trying to hide her bitterness at being humiliated.

* * *

'You still want me as a wife?' asked Catalina, her commanding tone still in her voice as they walked further into the gardens, 'as your Queen?'

Henry laughed as they stopped by the edge of Eltham's ancient trees, letting go of Catalina's hand as he went to lean against the truck of one of the mighty oaks.

'Of course,' he grinned, 'but don't expect to ever win an argument against me,'

'Maybe,' Catalina replied, seeing it as more of a challenge than a statement, 'but never expect me to hold my tongue,'

'I wouldn't dream of it, Princess,' muttered Henry still with a smile as he placed his arms around her slim waist and pulled her against him. He had been impressed with her show of strength and determination, finding that, whilst it would have been a highly unattractive feature in Elizabeth, in Catalina it was very alluring.

He placed his mouth on top of her warm red lips and let them start to kiss him, before he slowly started to respond, teasing her as he sensed her frustration at his unhurried reply. Henry was older than her and not one given to notions of a romantic reunion after their separation, but he had missed her and had been almost mesmerised by her performance, so soon he was matching her passion.

'I thought you were rude and arrogant, when I first met you that night' said Catalina, as she pulled away, 'and I still think you to be those things,'

'Well, Princess,' replied Henry, his eyes falling on her lips briefly, before returning to her beautiful gaze, 'I thought you to be pleasing,'

'Pleasing?' repeated Catalina, wrinkling her nose at Henry's words, 'you found me please?,'

'You were younger,' shrugged Henry with a grin as he let go of her waist, as he found her surprising show of vanity amusing, 'I had no interest you, other than what you could provide though marriage to my son...'

As Henry spoke of Arthur, he suddenly found a lump appear in his throat and a chill run through his body. People thought him cold and perhaps he was, but despite his wanting to marry Catalina, he still mourned the loss of his oldest boy. For fifteen years he had been the light of Henry's life, only to die hundreds of miles away in the isolated Ludlow Castle, with his father not there to comfort him and the guilt of his abandonment, still stung in the King's heart.

'He was a clever boy,' Catalina whispered, placing a hand gently on Henry's face, 'he would have made a good King, but God decided that it was not meant to be. Nor were he and I meant to be,'

'And do you think your mother will believe that?'

'My mother always relies on the conviction of God,' continued Catalina, her voice once again returning to its regal manner, 'and once she sees that that woman has clouded her judgement, she will understand the pure truth and we will have our dispensation and I, her blessing,'

'Are you always so certain of things?' asked Henry, finding the pain in his heart soothed as he pulled her back to him, his thumbs stroking the sides of her waist, 'I am older, yet my nights are sometimes full of night terrors-something you will soon learn,'

'Soon,' Catalina blushed, but her body continued to lean in against his, 'and I have been thinking, planning our wedding. Given how long my message will take to reach Spain and then for my mother's to reach his Holiness. Also with consideration to the words spoken by your mother, we shall marry on 1st September,'

'The 1st September,' laughed Henry, his eyes falling once again on her lips, 'a day on, which history will be made,'


	13. Chapter 13

**First of all****, I am so sorry about how long it has taken me to update, what with university, work and other things, time just got the better of me. Secondly, I know I promised a wedding, but I'm afraid that won't be happening till next chapter-please forgive me. Thirdly, I'm afraid this chapter is rather long.**

**Big thank you to everyone who reviewed and to everyone who is reading this story. Also a massive thank you to TudorGirl910489, for all your help, ideas and for being this stories biggest fan and a super massive thank you to Vain X Life Poetess- thank you so much for all your help, ideas and for reading through this chapter-I am eternally grateful for your help and support.**

**Quick note-the pageants used in this chapter are based on the ones, which greeted Henry VII on his Royal Progress in 1486. **

**Hope you enjoy. **

_Salve, Regina, Mater misericordiae, _

_vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve. _

_ad te clamamus exsules filii Hevae, _

_ad te suspiramus, gementes et flentes _

_in hac lacrimarum valle. _

_Eia, ergo, advocata nostra, illos tuos _

_misericordes oculos ad nos converte; _

_et Jesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui, _

_nobis post hoc exsilium ostende. _

_O clemens, O pia, O dulcis Virgo Maria._

Henry's voice trembled as his lips hissed his prayer to the Holy Mother. His tightly clasped hands too, were shaking slightly as the King of England, asked the only woman, besides his mother, who had stood by him through all his troubles, for comfort.

He had first prayed to her when he was a little boy, frightened and alone as his beloved uncle in exile and his poor mother told once again that she could not keep him. But the Blessed Virgin had heard his young cries and she granted him a good life with the Herberts. She had listened to his whispers again, when he had been lying on that buck on a ship bound for Brittany, for several years later, she had guided him back to this country and to the loving arms of his mother and later to victory on the field of Bosworth. Once again he had felt her presence at Stoke, then again at Blackheath, but his pleas for the life of Elizabeth had gone unnoticed.

Outside he could hear the court getting ready to leave and soon they would be waiting for him, so they could be on the final stage of their journey, but they would have to wait. Wait for their King to finish prayers, to regain his thoughts, to regain his strength and to regain his conviction.

As he repeated his prayer, Henry thought, as he notice how unsteady his clasped hands were, that he had not been this terrified since that long ago August morning.

Perhaps it was his age. He was no longer the young King, on the eve of founding a great dynasty, for now he was almost battle weary, with family that had suffered many blows over the past few years-and soon they would lose another member. By the end of this progress, he would have lost his oldest daughter to Scotland and it would simply be him, Harry and Mary trying to hold the future of England together.

Only it would not simply be the three of them, or even four with the inclusion of his mother, but five, for soon Catalina de Aragon would be his wife...and this was the thing, which caused Henry's heart to almost collapse in fear.

He cursed himself for being so foolish, for he was no longer a lovesick boy, but a full grown man with children to protect, yet he could not stop himself from acting like one. Only a few months ago, he had thought his mind black and unable to be moved by anything or anyone again, but now, every time he laid eyes or even thought about his young bride, he felt his once black heart leap with joy. And yet he could not stop obsessing of all that could go wrong.

Since they had left London, every morning Henry had watched her as she paced the floor of their lodgings, faint lines knitted on her forehead as she was once again informed that there was no news of the dispensation from Rome. He enjoyed watching her as she scowled in annoyance and he liked to tease her, seeing her cheeks turn red in frustration, only for her to reminded him that he wished to marry her, just as much as she him . Then his mind would fear that the Pope had not agreed to the dispensation or that blasted woman in Spain had once again blocked the appeal, because she still deemed him unfit for a son-in-law.

Then another thought would strike him, that filled him with just as much dread. What if it went wrong once they married? What if Catalina got with child, only to die in the process of trying to give it life? And what if their child died too- where would he be then? Henry knew his heart and soul could not take another grief and he was sure that if God took her also, he could not find the strength to once again rebuild his life.

But what if she lived and they had many years together, only for her to grow frustrated with him once the age difference became too much. What then, if she went to another for love? Some young courtier, who could give her all the satisfaction in the marriage bed, that the King could no longer give her? Where would he be then?

_Ave, maris stella,_

_Dei mater alma,_  
_atque semper virgo,_  
_felix cœli porta._

_Sumens illud Ave_

_Gabrielis ore,_  
_funda nos in pace,_  
_mutans Evæ nomen._

_Solve vincla reis,_

_profer lumen cæcis,_  
_mala nostra pelle,_  
_bona cuncta posce._

_Monstra te esse matrem,_

_sumat per te precem_  
qui pro nobis natus  
tulit esse tuus.

As Henry continued to prayer, he looked up at the statue of the Virgin, with her arms stretched out in the guise of Mary Misericordiae. He hoped she was listening to him, the way she had done, not just on lonely hours before a defining battle, but on those times, when he was boy unable to sleep for night terrors.

He did not want miracles, but he longed for protection and strength, for if they all found the strength, there was still a chance they would all find happiness.

* * *

'Doctor de Puebla,' shouted Henry, as he hurried from the small chapel down the hall of the manor house, 'unless you bring good news, I don't want you in my sight!'

'Your Highness,' replied the Spanish ambassador, trying desperately to fall into step with the English King, only his short legs made it near impossible and he found he had no choice but to run, 'I am glad to say that I bring very good tidings!'

Henry stopped, causing de Puebla to almost tumble into him. Despite his bluntness with him, Henry rather enjoyed his dealings with the representative of Isabella and Ferdinand. He was not like the others from royal courtiers, he was like Henry-an outsider, in a world that did not fully want them. And because of this, it was easy to contract deals as though they were business negotiations-which is what they truly were to Henry, as opposed to some sacred deal of majesty.

'Well,' said Henry, turning to face Doctor de Puebla, 'lets hear it,'

'Yes, Your Highness,' answered the Ambassador, clearing is throat, 'it seems our friend Dona Elvira has been dismissed from the Spanish court,'

'Really,' smiled Henry, crossing his arms as he lent against the wall panel-this was entertaining news, as well as good, 'so Their Majesties have finally seen sense over that sour face heifer,'

Doctor de Puebla laughed, as he too had had the same though over the Princess' former duenna, who he despised with a passion stronger than the King's.

'It seems her gracious Majesty, Queen Isabella became aware of certain untruths uttered to her by our friend Elvira, Your Highness and was so disguised, she instantly dismissed her,'

'As glad as I am to hear it,' interpreted Henry, knowing that de Puebla would not have travelled this far north of his cosy London home, just to share the news of this woman's downfall, 'I doubt you have travelled all this way to Yorkshire, just to gossip with me. Unless of course, your Queen has seen the error of her ways regarding the other matter,'

'Yes, the other matter,' answered the ambassador, 'both Their Majesties are the most kind and loving parents one could ever meet, always wanting what is best for their children. They are also two people, who full understand the importance of kingship, of destiny, of...'

'Do you have the dispensation?' sighed Henry with frustration. When Catalina spoke of destiny and God's plan, Henry felt a chill run down his spin, but with Doctor de Puebla, he just felt bored.

'Yes, Your Highness,' answered de Puebla, as he produced and then handed over the sealed document, which Henry snatched, like an impatient child during Christmastide, before breaking the wax with excitement in his eyes.

'You're right,' he laughed, as he eyes scanned every word, 'this is good news. Very good news indeed,'

Doctor de Puebla sighed heavily with relief as he saw the lights in the King's eyes. Out of all the marriages he had witnessed in his life and all the ones he would attend in the future, this would be the one he would be the most happy to see completed. For finally it meant no longer having to face the wrath of the King, nor the regal yet fiery temper of the Infanta. It was as though, God was wanting him to work that extra bit harder for his place in Heaven. Hopefully, once the union had been complete, the pair would find a way to cool each other's blood and de Puebla could go back to having some peace. With that though in mind, de Puebla started to laugh for the first time in many months.

'Now,' said Henry, continuing on his march towards the door, 'are you going to accompany me to York, Doctor de Puebla or are you just going to just stand there laughing at your own private joke!'

* * *

'What is York like?' whispered Catalina, as walls of the ancient city of the North came into sight. To the foreign Princess, the city caused her to feel it must contain much dread, as she had always heard its name spoken in conjunction with the evil hunchback.

'It is,' smiled Henry, pulling his horse into a trot beside her's, 'one of the most beautiful cities you will ever see,'

'But do they not…' started the Princess, jumping slightly as she felt the King lean over and take hold of her right hand. Despite everything that had passed between them, her and Henry had restricted all clear signs of intimacy between them, to when they were by themselves or around a certain few.

'You aren't frightened, are you Princess,' teased Henry, leaning in so he could whisper in her ear, 'for you have no need to fear, not any more. They like us here now and do you wish to know a secret?'

Catalina nodded her head as Henry leaned further in, causing her to shiver slightly as she felt his warm breath tickle her ear.

'The secret to winning the heart of the North is simply to subvert the Scots. Stop those from the Highlands raiding, raping and pilfering and you will make them loyal to you forever,' whispered Henry as he signalled for both their horses to come to a halt, 'besides, if they wanted to hurt anyone, it would be me, not you, for the English love their beautiful queens too much lay a finger on them,'

'Yes, but I am not queen yet,'

'But you soon will be,' the King replied, as he leant in and kissed her gently on the lips.

As the King publically acknowledge his love for the Spanish princess, those around them, looked away, trying to suppress their gasps as they did or in the cause of Harry, trying to stop the bile collecting his stomach from tumbling out of his mouth and onto his best doublet.

'Poor mother,' he hissed to himself, as his eyes glared at his father, who continued to kiss the much younger Princess. It made young Harry bitter to see his father with the woman, he considered himself to be in love with. It ate away at him as he thought on the sinful things his father wanted and would soon do to that innocent maiden. It also hurt him, that he was not of an age, where he could stop this nonsense. All he could do, was stand there and watch as his father did as he always did, taking what he wanted without a though for anyone else. He had already cause his mother great hurt and her death, by forcing her to once again get with child and he would probably do the same with Catalina, if not killing her in childbed, making her unhappy for entirety-something Harry would never do, 'poor Catalina'

'So it seems the rumours are true,' said Lord Strange, keeping a careful eye on his step-brother and the Infanta, as they exchange little smiles, before once again starting on their journey towards the city, 'our brother does have some warm blood running through his veins after all,'

'You leave them both be, George,' answered Thomas sharply, as he indicated for his horse to move on, 'I am warning you just to leave everything be,'

* * *

Henry was right, the people of York did lay on a welcome, with such a spectacle that Catalina thought she had step back in time to her wedding day to Arthur. Before they had even entered the city, they were met at the gates by a pageant, celebrating Ebraucus, the ancient King of the Britons and the founder of York, who welcomed another great king to his fair city.

After the first impressive welcome, it was followed by display of ships on the River Ouse, which echoed Henry's return for exile, when he and his followers had arrived at Milford Haven. Trying to stop her mouth from falling open, Catalina swore that she had never seen so many boats and ships at once, for despite this bright day, there was not an inch of blue river for the sun to shine off of.

'I don't remember being that well supported, when we landed,' whispered Henry, as both he and Catalina watched from the bridge, 'well, as long as they now see me as the bringer of light into the wretched darkness, what else matters,'

They moved on to street, which Henry informed her was named Quonyenx and there she could not help but laugh in happiness. All the buildings were draped in tapestries of such wealth and decorated with very beautiful design, that she found herself longing to return to this city as Queen, just so she could see the pomegranate displayed alongside the hundreds of embroided Tudor roses. However, it was not just this fine display of wealth that moved her, it was the ordinary people themselves.

They cheered them all, herself included along with Harry and the Princesses, as they showered the Royal procession with so many wafers and sweetmeats, that God might have mistook the confetti for rain as he looked down on them. But the biggest roars from the crowd came for the man, who had defeated this city's hero almost eighteen years ago that very day.

They all cried, _'long live King Henry!' _especially as Henry nodded his approval with a wide smile at another pageant in which the Holy Mother beseeched her son to once again bless this city, despite their past foolishness.

'They seem to like you, Your Highness,' smiled Catalina, wondering if Henry would be able to hear her over the roar of the crowd.

'Not bad for someone who is rude and arrogant, is it Princess,' replied Henry, as they stopped by the final pageant, 'besides they know that if they are nice to me, I will be nice to them,'

Soon the mighty spectacle of York Minister came into sight and Catalina felt every inch of her skin become covered in goose bumps as she gazed at the building, which was more beautiful than St Pauls and Westminster Abbey combined. The ancient stone seemed to ooze the early faith of their forefathers, who were all willing to die, rather than return to the days of paganism, causing Catalina to find she had tears welling in her eyes.

'It is one of the most beautiful buildings in my kingdom,' said Henry, reading Catalina thoughts, hoping it covered his own, which entertained the notion, that the Minister was not as beautiful as the cathedral in Rennes.

Climbing down from his horse, Henry took a deep breath as he walked over to where the Princess' horse had come to halt and gave the signal that he would help the young woman down. Despite his earlier nerves, he brushed them from his mind, as after all she would soon be his wife and what better place for their betrothal to be official, than the city whose loyalty he needed the most, 'but perhaps not as beautiful as the Princess, who will be their new Queen on 1st September,'

Blushing slightly, Catalina slide off her horse and into Henry's arms, holding on to him for a few more seconds as he kissed her on the forehead to the roar of the crowd.

'We have the dispensation,' whispered Henry, before he lead her to the steps of the cathedral-ignoring the looks of distain, which passed between the waiting clergy.

* * *

Inside the Minister, those with the Royal party and the influential members of city, watched as the King and his family gave thanks at the shrine of St William, before the Archbishop showed them around the most beautiful cathedral in England's possession. Henry had been there several times before, but it did not stop him joining the others as they walked around the most holy of buildings, especially as he noticed how enthralled Catalina was.

'Do you remember King Richard?' said Lord Strange, coming to stand beside Thomas, 'oh sorry, I mean the Evil Pretender?'

With a grim expression , Thomas turned to look at his older brother, trying to suppress the urge to raise to his bait. They had never got on, even as children they were always fighting, George taunting his brother with the fact that he was the oldest, therefore the most important, whilst Thomas was just the spare. And it always worked, for Thomas would then launch himself at his brother, causing their nurse to come charging into the nursery, punishing Thomas with a red backside and comforting George with bread and jam. Nothing had changed as they had grown into men, expect Thomas realised that he must fight the urge to use his fists on George.

'And you must know that to speak thus, could have you ending up the same way as Uncle,' replied Thomas with a curled lip, 'with your head on the executioner's block!'

'Oh my dear brother, you mistake my meaning,' laughed George, merrily as he slapped his brother on the back, 'I mean no harm to our dear brother, I am just remarking that the last time I saw looks like that was back in the days of the hunchback, when our departed Queen came to his court as a sweet and beautiful, young woman,'

Thomas said nothing, but looked away from his brother to Henry , who had an arm around the Infanta's shoulders, as they both listened to the Archbishop tell them the story of St William and the miracle of the bridge of York. There was no denying that they both seemed interested in the holy man's words, especially Catalina, but Thomas just looked at step-brother's face as he pointed out the image in the stained glass to his bride. The King's face was brighter than it had been in a long time, though there was more to it then Henry learning to smile again.

He seemed calmer now when around others and his moods were lighter-well as light as they could be with Henry-as was the paranoia and nightmares. Those black eyes were lighter too, as were the lines on his forehead, which Thomas had at one point though permanent, when Henry was with the Princess. Elizabeth had had the same effect, but with her it had been different. It had always taken sweet words from Elizabeth to rid Henry's face of torment, however all the young Princess had to do was walk into the room and smile.

'Perhaps,' smiled Thomas, as he watched Catalina says something to Henry, causing him to laugh, 'she is truly is his reward for winning Bosworth,'

* * *

Thomas Savage, Archbishop of York was a troubled man, who seemed to have aged ten years since he received the King and his family into his home at Bishopthrope; and in between the period of welcoming them and being asked to meet the King in private, he swore that his hair had started to tumble out.

It was not as if Savage disliked the King or the King him for that matter. In fact, Savage, like many others, had prospered under this new dynasty, serving as Bishop of Rochester and London, before being transferred to York. He had even wed the King's poor, oldest son to the beautiful daughter of Spain on that glorious day, which seemed now to belong to another lifetime. But that day, which had been the most glorious of Savage's life, was now the source of his pain.

News was slow to meet them in the North sometimes, but he had heard many rumours from the merchants arriving back from London, which stated that the King wished to marry his former daughter-in-law. He had not believed them at first, for it seemed almost incomprehensible that the King would entertain such impure thoughts, especially given the little time between them both losing their respected partners and now. But as the rumours continued, he found he could no longer put them down to Yorkist mischief and believed that even the most scandalous whispers must have some truth behind them, which had caused him great trouble- trouble which had only increased in recent days. For he had received letters from various members of England's clergy, begging with him to speak with the King on this matter, thought Savage had thought at first he could ignore their pleas. After all, why did they not appeal to the King themselves? But after what he had witnessed, along with most of York, pass between the King and his former daughter-in-law, he knew he could no longer hold his tongue.

'Your Grace,' smiled Henry, as Savage entered the chamber in almost a shuffle, before giving a quick bow, during which he cursed himself for shaking so much, 'I trust you are well,'

'Yes, very Your Highness,' replied Savage, his voice trembling slightly as he sat down in the chair the King indicated for him to take, 'I am in the best of health,'

'Then you might try and look like it!,' Henry laughed, as he too took a seat, 'for God sake man, you look like you have the plague!'

Savage tried to muster a smile, but he found it extremely difficult and instead let his discomfort, revealed itself all to clearly on his face-causing his monarch's laughs to alter back to his usual sober mood.

'Unless there is something else which troubles you,' said Henry gravelly, leaning forward and pursing his thin lips into a whisper, 'for if something else is troubling you, then I think I have every right to know, don't you?'

'Yes!' squeaked the Archbishop of York, almost jumping out of seat with fear before composing himself, 'sorry, yes Your Highness, but you have nothing to fear, for it is my belief that there is not a man, woman or child in this great realm, let alone this great city, who would wish you any harm, Your Highness,'

'Good,' returned Henry, sitting back in his chair and allowing his trouble free state to once again enter his mind, 'good. Now Your Grace, I have a task for you,'

'Yes, Your Highness,' answered Savage, as he prayed that it was not the one thing he was dreading- for a friend had told him that he had heard rumours that the dispensation had arrived from Rome, declaring the King free to marry his son's wife.

'On the 1st September, I want you to perform a marriage…'

'Of Princess Margaret to the King of Scotland,' he gasped, breaking all rules of decorum, 'but I thought that the marriage was to take place in Edinburgh?'

'It is,' replied Henry slowly, trying to get Savage to follow his words, 'but I want you to perform at different one. One for me and the Dowager Princess of Wales,'

'To each other?'

'That is what marriage usually means,' said Henry, his voice going cold as he was no fool, he knew what others had been saying and he knew his spies had evidence that many were not so supportive of this marriage as Pope Alexander VI had been, before God called the descent of St Peter to him, 'unless of course you can find a reason not to,'

'I…I…I,' stuttered Savage, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and longing for the good Lord to take him as he felt the weight of Henry's cold eyes on him, 'I…I…I…'

'I…I…I, isn't really an argument,' interrupted Henry, in a voice that showed no emotion, 'tell me what troubles you, Your Grace. I have let you rise, which means I trust you and I trust you to always tell me the truth,'

'Incest!' croaked Savage, unable to take any more of Henry's penetrating gaze, 'sorry, You Highness, what I mean is, is that you are asking me to perform the impossible,'

'Impossible?'

'Yes,' continued Savage, knowing there was no going back now he had let the words slip from his mouth, even though he was aware that all he had worked for, could soon be taken away from him, 'the Dowager Princess is your daughter-in-law, her affinity with Your Highness is very strong-maybe too strong,'

'Don't you think I know that,' muttered Henry, getting to his feet. Despite the weakness this Princess brought to him and his determination to make her his, he was not immune to the doubles of others, for secretly they had plagued his mind too, 'yet the Pope doesn't share your belief,'

Savage watched as the King walked away from where they had been sat, the heels of his riding boots clicking on the wooden floor, before he came to rest by the window. For a moment, the Archbishop reflected about how the King always seemed dressed as if he would have to leave at a moment's notice. Perhaps he was, after all he had not held the throne for almost twenty years without a certain amount of fight, but Savage also thought that the King had not reacted the way he had feared. He had expected to be torn to shreds, yet the King seems to be more disheartened than angry.

'But surely Your Highness can see that it places me in rather difficult position,' continued Savage, shifting in his chair, so that he could face the King, only Henry remained with his back to him, 'I married your son to the Dowager Princess, you must see, that regardless of what the Holy Father says, Your Highness is still asking me to perform something which is extremely difficult,'

'Don't you think I know that,' Henry said, still in a low mutter as he let his eyes stare out of the window, 'don't you remember I was there,'

It had been a glorious day and stood there, Henry could still hear the roar of the crowds as Arthur and Catalina became man and wife. He remembered smiling at Elizabeth, as they both watched with pride, whilst thinking that the English loved a wedding-and that was all that had happened. He had had no thought of wanting the bride for himself, but now she was all he wanted.

By the gates of the house, he watched as Catalina and Mary helped some of the Archbishop's servants distribute alms and food to the poor. Despite the distance between them, Henry could hear the warm voice of his young bride, as she comforted the poor of this great city with coins, food and reassurances that they would one day find eternal salvation. Letting his eyes focus more intently on her, forgetting briefly that he was in the middle of a conversation, he reflected upon not her beauty, but things that were hidden from the outside world. Perhaps if it had been a case of simply lusting after her young body, he would listen to those who criticized, for he too had suffered doubts about marrying the woman, he had first brought to his kingdom for the sole purpose of giving him a grandson.

'_Da garout a ran, Harri,'_

Henry heard a voice echo through the years and take possession of his mind. Suddenly, he was no longer in Bishopthrope, York but sat on a tree stump on the rugged coast of Brittany, looking out at the deep, blue sea. He no longer saw the Infanta either, but another young woman, with a different appearance of dark eyes and hair, which were both as dark as the night and a stomach that was starting to grow with their child.

'_Katarin, I love you too,' _he said, leaning forward to place a hand on her belly, '_but...'_

'_But you have to leave,'_ she whispered, trying not to cry as she moved away from his clasp, '_leave me and leave our baby. Leave us and marry someone else and get children off of her, forgetting that you already have a family here!'_

Harri...Henry had felt his heart almost collapse with grief as he heard her words. He did not want to leave her or their unborn child, in fact, if he had the strength and conviction, he would have argued that the cause of Lancaster had died at Tewkesbury and that his place was here with Katarin and the family they wanted. But no matter how much he loved her, he knew he could not abandoned the destiny that he had been born to follow. His mother and uncle had dedicated every moment of their life to protecting him, to making sure nothing prevented them from delivering their boy to the throne of England and he could not betray them. His mother had scarified any chance she had at happiness for him, whilst uncle Jasper looked constantly torn, when he saw his nephew with the kitchen girl, who he had encouraged him to purse, he knew, he could not give his nephew what his heart wanted.

'_Come with me!' _Henry pleaded, throwing his arms around her and pulling her gently to him, _'come to England,'_

'_To have your mother put me straight back on a ship bound for home,' _Katarin laughed sadly as she ran a figure down Henry's cold cheek, _'no, I can't have that. Besides Harri, what would your new wife say, if you brought with you a kitchen girl and the child you have together,'_

Henry did not know how to reply, for he could not fault her logic. He could only imagine the pain and strain it would cause his poor mother, if he forsook the crown of England, for a life in nice house in Brittany. It would destroy her and he could not face inflicting that on her, but nor could he impose that suffering on Katarin.

'_It won't be forever,' _he whispered to her, as he placed a hand on top of the tightening fabric of Katarin's plain dress, _'then I swear as soon as the day comes when it is over and I am free, I'll come back to you and we'll be a family,' _

But he had not comeback for them. In fact, Henry had no idea where his first love and child now where. Maybe he should try to find them, after all he possessed the power and money to do so, but maybe it was best to simply leave them be? After all, what good would it do, to bring the long lost past to the present, especially as Jasper had found Katarin a good husband-it would be unfair to ruin the family she now had, not to mention Henry's.

Leaving Katarin back on the cliffs of Brittany, Henry came back to the present and turned his attention back to the man, who he wanted to perform his wedding ceremony. He had already lost one love and he was not about to lose another, especially as he could sense that Catalina and England's destiny was intertwined with what his heart wanted.

'Casting aside whatever rumours you have heard,' said Henry, once again pacing the room, but his eyes did not leave the nervous archbishop, 'do you not think it would be practical for me to remarry?'

'Well,' replied Savage carefully as he recognised the calculating tone in his King's voice, 'of course, but I just think that it would be better if you married a foreign princess, who was not so closely related...'

'Of course there are plenty of princesses out there,' continued Henry, the heels of his boots clicking on the floor, hiding his thoughts that there was only one princess he truly wanted, 'but you know how long drawn out those blasted negotiations can be. It could take us almost two years just to arrange a day, which might not even be in that year. If I was young, maybe that would be alright, but time isn't on my side and I need a wife. I need more heirs,'

Savage closed his eyes, crunching the lids together as he heard the King's heavy footsteps come up to his chair. He knew the warning signs that the King was about to pounce and after eighteen years of holding on to power, sometimes by the skin of his teeth, Savage knew that Henry was now adapt to achieving his own aims.

'And one dreads to think what could happen if God forbid something was to happen to me and with the Prince of Wales not yet at an age or ready enough to take the crown. I mean, anything could happen,' Henry hissed as he came to rest beside Savage's chair and leaning forward he placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back so he could whisper in his, 'I mean not just what could happen to my family if my enemies triumphed, but all those who have risen with me. I doubt those who wear white roses will be so forgiving to those who kept their enemies in power. After all, remember what they did at Tewkesbury. Poor Prince Edward slain as he pleaded for his life and the other poor souls, dragged out sanctuary and butchered before they had a chance make their last confession. It would be such a horrible waste of life and my hard work, don't you think, if it happened again?'

Savage could not fault Henry's logic, it made perfect sense. The new Tudor dynasty was hanging by a thread since tragedy had first visited them that terrible April last year, but it did not stop the nagging doubts that what the King was proposing was wrong.

'I hear you are building a chantry chapel,' said Henry, moving causally away and coming to sit back in his chair, 'it would be shame for it to remain unfinished. A great shame indeed,'

'So,' sighed Savage, realising he had been beaten, 'You Highness would like the 1st?'

'Yes. The Dowager Princess of Wales has her heart set on it,' replied Henry, waving his hand to dismiss his Archbishop, 'now you may go, as you have wedding to plan,'

* * *

Regardless of what people thought of him, Henry did not particularly like being so manipulative and cruel, but life had taught him, that sometimes one had to be that way to survive. He would not have kept the throne for so long, if he had carried on the Lancastrian tradition of weak and ineffective government-he would now be as dead as Henry VI, if he had and not planning his wedding day. But it was his wedding day that slightly unnerved him.

He knew what the people thought, for it was reflected back in the uneasy looks of Savage. Even with the Papal dispensation, there were those who would still see it as wrong and possibly that Catalina had no say in the matter. After all, she was a foreign princess, widowed and alone on these unfamiliar shores, looking to her former father-in-law for protection…a father-in-law, who in turn had used her weakness to his political and lustful advantage.

It should not bother him, for he did enjoy being thought of as a powerful King, but it troubled his heart that the people would think he abused the memory of his son, for the sake of some nights spent between warm, young thighs. Had God not taken both his son and wife, he would never have let his eyes fall on the exotic foreign Princess and instead he would have continued to see her as his new daughter, celebrating with the rest of the family, every time she gave him another grandchild.

'Your Highness,' called Catalina gently, as she tiptoed into the quiet chamber, 'Henry?'

'Mmmm,' answered Henry, coming out of his thoughts and smiling as he saw her hovering around the door, 'sorry,'

'You are not worrying about things you have no need too,' said Catalina, walking over to where Henry sat by the window and perching beside him, 'I have never seen so many happy people,'

'They put on a good show,' replied Henry, putting an arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him slightly, 'I was just thinking about Margaret,'

It was a lie but only slightly, Henry reflected to himself. After all he was a father, sending his daughter to a foreign country, where he was trusting others to care for her. He knew that King James had mistresses and bastards, therefore he was unlikely to make the most loyal of husbands. All Henry could do was hope and prayer, that she would find someone who would care and protect her once she crossed the border-but not someone who would take advantage and abuse her trust.

'God will protect her,' smiled Catalina, leaning back onto Henry and putting an arm across him, 'we are both exiles but we survive and she will too. Shall we go for a walk?'

* * *

'I thought that today was a success,' said Catalina, taking a few steps ahead of Henry as she tread light across the grass. The sky was starting to darken and the sun was starting to set, with bright reds and oranges lighting the Yorkshire landscape for one last show of colour before blackness of night, but whilst, Catalina's ladies hated the English evenings, she herself was growing to love them. She had always believed that the further north you went, the worse the weather, but approaching the great northern city of York, Catalina had found the air surprisingly hot. As the days turned into night, the air around her seemed to carry a warm wave, which caused her body to tingle and her mind to drift to Granada, 'they were all so kind and you are right, there was no need to fear,'

'They know how to put on a good show,' sighed Henry heavily, as he scuffed the ground with the hard leather of his ridding boots, 'but good shows are just appearances, behind closed...'

'Don't,' interrupted Catalina, in her rich Spanish accent, as she turned round to face the King, her skirts flowing around her as the soon-to-be Queen, pointed a finger at her future husband, 'don't say...'

'Don't say what, Princess?' grinned Henry as he caught hold of her hand and pulled her to him, 'that behind closed doors, things are very different? You know it to be true,'

'As long as the whole of Christendom see who is King, then what does a few disgruntled minds matter,' continued the daughter of Isabella, still with a fiery passion in her voice as she felt Henry's thumb stroke her knuckles, 'you are King!'

Breaking his grin into a laugh, Henry pulled her closer to him, so that only their linked hands were all that stood between them. In the reds of the sky, he could see the passion behind the cold blue of her eyes, whilst her long auburn hair seemed to be ablaze with every colour of red as her erotic words dripped from her mouth. She looked even more alluring now, than what she had done this morning when he had lifted her off of her horse. Then she had seemed a mere sweet woman, relieved that her marriage was now blessed by his Holiness, but now, in the evening, she was alive with zeal that caused Henry to suppress his almost boiling desire.

'Yes, Princess,' he sighed, biting on his lip as he let his hand rest near her breasts, his knuckles stroking on the dragon broach, pinned as it always was, just below the gold trimming on her neckline, 'I suppose you are right,'

'I am,' she replied, briefly looking up at Henry with confidence, before shyly looking away, though a smile crept on to her face as she felt Henry's other arm around her waist, 'when I am your wife, you will have to cease calling me Princess,'

'Will I? But you suit the title so well, Princess,' Henry whispered, as he inched his lips closer to hers, wanting to do something, which he had been longing to do since this morning, though as he caught hold of those red lips, Catalina pulled away, 'Princess?'

'No, Queen!' she cried, pushing herself forward, almost crushing her's and Henry's hands between their bodies, but as she did, Henry's thumb, which had been stroking her valuable broach, caught the curve of her left breast. It was the lightest of touches, yet it caused something in her to become alive, 'and I will be a great Queen of England. I will make sure, this realm is safe for all times and I will give you a son. No, I will give you a whole nursery full of heirs!'

'Oh, I have no doubt you will,' grinned Henry, as he leaned forward and kissed her on cheek, 'Princess,'

'Queen!,'

'I'm King,' continued Henry, letting go of Catalina's hand, before walking away, laughing a little at the frustration on her pretty face as he did, 'I decide on who is what around here and I think you are rather charming as a Dowager Princess of Wales. The people seem to love you as her and I seem to love you as her,'

'And when I am Queen, they will love me more and they will love you, especially when I give you the heirs to secure your crown and when they see that I am a Queen who will fight for them,'

'And you can't do that as Princess?'

'I cannot be your wife, if I am but a Princess!' Catalina continued with her bottom lip stuck out in determination, as she stormed after Henry, grabbing hold of his hand and using all her strength to force him to turn. She was certain it was her strength, that got Henry to return to her, for she could feel the fever in her blood. Perhaps it was the late evening heat, which caused her to forget the lessons her mother taught her, for she found herself pushing her body up on to tiptoes, giving her the height needed to whisper in the King's ear, 'and if I am not your wife, then I cannot produce a nursery full of heirs,'

As Henry heard the exotic whisper trickle words into his ear, he allowed himself a brief moment to let the fantasies, which he had been trying to suppress, dance before those supposedly dead eyes. She was not like the other women he had met on the many journeys his life had sent him on, for she had no idea how alluring she really was. Whereas other women would use their sex to advance their cause, this young woman had no notion, that what was to her, simply the strong behaviour that God had given her, could awaken every desire in him. For a brief moment, he pictured their wedding night, with Catalina's firm body lying beneath and then top of him, his hands caressing her warm curves as she red lips moaned in that mysterious accent of hers, as he entered her.

'Well then,' he muttered, his eyes on her lips as he scooped her up around the waist, pulling her against a tree. For a moment, he just continued to study Catalina's bright red lips, until he heard her breathing become heavy and fast, then he placed his lips on top of hers as he felt her arms around his neck, 'Queen it is,'

* * *

'Eh!' moaned Harry, as he spied his father kissing his soon be his stepmother, 'how can she bear to have him touch her? '

'She does not seem to mind,' replied Margaret, in a voice, which showed little emotions as she came to stand by her brother's side. She had been warned by both her father and grandmother to behave herself on what could well be her last Royal Progress in England. Her grandmother in particular, had been most vocal in her laying down of the rules of decorum to Margaret, even threatening to abandon her, in the land of the thistles without a coin or stitch of clothing to her name, if she showed any hint of disrespect to the Infanta or more importantly to her father. Her father had echoed his own mother's words, but whilst Lady Margaret's words had caused her namesake to feel rage, her father's had made her almost cry inside. Not because they were hard or because of they were words of hate, but because they were so few and they were spoken in such a way that was so dismissive, they left Margaret wondering if her father even cared for his oldest children anymore. After all did not he need too. He would be rid of her and maybe he would then simply leave Harry under stricter control in Ludlow, whilst he remained in England doting on the new Royal family that the Princess of Spain would give him; and there would certainly be a new occupant of the Royal cradle by this time next year. Her father had spent the entire journey doting on his young bride to be, with much more warm affection than he ever looked at their mother. Perhaps Uncle Thomas was right, maybe the Spanish Princess was truly his prize for winning Bosworth; a wife he had picked because of human emotions and not duty-and it seemed, that the young woman felt the same...or at least she gave that impression, 'in fact, I think she enjoys it,'

'Now, but once father is old and she see him for his true self,' Harry muttered, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he crept closer towards his father and the Infanta, who were still engrossed in their embrace, 'then she will weep for having married him,'

'Harry! Margaret!' cried Lady Margaret, as she marched up behind them and slamming her small hands down on the shoulders of her grandchildrens, 'what are you two doing out here? Do you not know that dinner is about to be served? Do you not realise that its important that we present a show of unity to this ungodly city?'

'I trust, madam,' said Harry, with a small bow towards his grandmother as he tried to disguise the sarcastic tone of his voice, 'that you will be having the same words with the King, for he too is not at dinner, having found more important things to occupy his time, then uniting his kingdom,'

Harry was very proud of his answer, finding it surprisingly witty, but as he grinned at his grandmother, he saw she by no means shared his mirth. As he saw that familiar scowl, Harry felt his heartbeat quicken, as he tapped Margaret on shoulder, hinting that they should do, as the most powerful woman in the kingdom commanded and withdraw from the garden to the great hall. Only month ago, Margaret would have protested and cried that her father was betraying his family, with a concubine who clearly only wanted the ancient crown of England on her pretty head, but now, she just left quietly, giving her grandmother a gracious bow, before following Harry inside.

'Well done, Margaret,' remarked the Queen Mother, causing her granddaughter to turn and give her namesake another respectful bow, 'I was slightly worried about how you would behave on this journey, but it seems you have proven me wrong. Now, please follow your brother and make sure that his behaviour tonight is as impeccable as yours,'

Margaret nodded in response, before once again turning away and carrying on with her journey to the banqueting hall. She had no notion of fighting with her grandmother-what was the point anyway? She could never win a battle, let alone a war against Lady Margaret and besides, what differences did it make now? Soon she would be in Scotland and probably destined to never see he family again. She would have to learn the art of surviving by herself and if this meant isolating herself from those she loved, then she must. After all, that love would soon be gone anyway, for with her in Scotland and her father in England with his young, sultry wife, he would soon have another daughter to spoil and dot on, replacing the one, he had lost in the name of foreign policy. There was no point, also, in raging against her father's determination to marry his young mistress, for it would be a sign of love and that was something, which was useless in a life in solitude.

A life of solitude, was something that Lady Margaret knew only too well, but unlike her oldest granddaughter, she had known from the moment she was old enough to appreciate the beauty of the Cross, that it was her path. For she had known from that point in time, that God had singled her out for something special. That unlike the ladies around her, her life would not be driven by love and passion, but be destiny and God's will. The Almighty had called her to a life free of such distractive emotions, so that she could lead her son to greatness. Henry had been her life from the moment he was born and she had dedicate every ounce of her being to him, making sure no other man was allowed a place in her heart-God had created it for Henry and Henry alone. And Lady Margaret had and was still willing to let this be the case, (for the only other man to ever mattered to her, was dead now anyway), but it did not stop, the hurt her heart felt, when she realised that Henry was willing to share his heart.

'Henry!' she called, in a shrill tone, causing her son and Catalina to jump apart with a start, 'Henry!'

'Mother,' gasped Henry as she revealed herself from the shadows and in the reds of the setting sun, he saw her face wore an even more serious expression than usual, the light highlighting the disapproving lines knitted on her forehead. He should feel guilty, as if he was still the boy caught with the kitchen girl rolling around in the Breton hay, yet he felt only a giddy sense of embarrassment, 'mother, I thought you were at prayer,'

'So it would seem, Henry,' replied his mother, in a voice that reminded him of the few times, when she had scowled him as a child, 'but everyone is ready for supper and are waiting on their King's presence and the Princess Mary would like you to help her finish dressing, Infanta,'

'Of course,' whispered Catalina, her eyes cast down at the ground in a demur fashion, as she tried to hide her small smile, brought on by Henry murmuring in her ear-

'I think we have been well and truly caught,'

Still with her eyes on the dry ground, Catalina made her way back to the palace, trying desperately to suppress her giggles as she navigated her way around Lady Margaret, whose eyes bore deep into the pretty head of the younger woman. But as Catalina disappeared from view, Lady Margaret turned those beady eyes on to her son, whose own gaze were still thinking on the silky movement of the Princess' young body, whilst his hands seemed to recall her curves and his lips, her hot mouth.

'Henry,' said Lady Margaret firmly, as she indicated with a small, boney finger, for her son to come closer to her, 'come here, my son,'

'Mother,' answered Henry, shaking himself out of the world of forbidden dreams and regaining his normal sense of self control, as he approached his mother. In the way he had done since he was a little boy, Henry kneeled to ask for her blessing. Only Lady Margaret did not place a hand on top of her boy's copper mass of hair, but instead, as if he was still the boy of five, in the care of the Herberts, caught stealing sweetmeats from the kitchens, she clipped him around the ear, 'ouch! Mother?'

'You are King, Henry! Not some lusty stable boy!,' she cried, as she watched her son rub the side of his face. She felt her heart tug, the way it done all those years ago, but it was nothing compared to the thought that she could lose her boy's heart, 'and I did not raise my son to have a mind plagued with such filth!'


	14. Chapter 14

**First of all , I am so sorry for taking so long to update, but I have been so busy with work and university that time just got the better of me-I hope this chapter makes up for it. Secondly, I'm afraid I have had to put the wedding back a few chapters-but don't worry, there will be one soon, so make sure you all have your hats (or hoods) ready. **

**Thanks you so much for all your reviews and for reading this story-I hope everyone enjoys this chapter, despite it being very long. And a super, massive thank you to TudorGirl910489 and Vain X Life Poetess for all your help and advice, plus thank you to Vain X Life Poetess for your support last week, when I thinking of giving up on everything. **

**Hope your all enjoy. Oh and a Happy 555th Birthday for tomorrow to my favourite Tudor monarch. **

The dress was a near perfect fit, with it being only an inch or two too short for Katarin, who did a brief twirl in the most expensive fabric she had ever felt against her skin. With a little laugh, she ran her fingers over the jewel encrusted bodice, but it was not the thought of diamonds which lightened her usual dark mood. No, her mood was still dark, for her giggle was done in cynicism as she thought that Harri's tastes had not altered with the years-even if he did now like his women now to be shorter.

As she finished her little dance, she felt her once warm heart turn as black as her mood, as recalled her their first meeting. Many years had passed since then, but to Katarin, it seemed as if it was only yesterday, for she could still recall every little detail.

It had been in the courtyard of one of the great castles in Nantes, were she and the other servants were celebrating St Pol Aurelian, by dancing in front of a great bonfire. Katarin had been dressed in a special outfit she and her mother had sewn together for the celebration. It had been a red skirt with a black bodice, overlaying her crisp white shift, whilst her starched and intricate bonnet sat pride of place on her head. Both herself and mother had hoped that Katarin would catch young Judoc's eye, for he was training to be a scribe, having him as a husband would have given Katarin a good life as a wife and mother. And their plan had work, for she had been dancing with Judoc at the very moment she had knock into another, who grabbed a strong hold her waist before she slipped and fell.

It had been dark, but in the flickering light from the fire and touches, she could clearly make out the face, which belonged to man, whose arms now held her waist in such a tight grip. He was young and handsome, though his face gave away none of the emotion he was feeling and he possessed the most engaging eyes. Even in the dime light, Katarin found herself hypnotised by the serious blues eyes, which stared back at her, for there seemed to be something hidden behind their no nonsense gaze.

'_Trugarez vras,' _stuttered Katarin, as the young stranger let go of her waist and for the moment the two of them just stood there, while the music and dancing continued. Desperately, she had tried to think something else to say, but found that the pounding of her heart, block her minds ability to think.

'_Degemer mat,' _mumbled the stranger, breaking away from her gaze and staring down at the stone courtyard, as he shuffled from one foot to the other, though Katarin could not make out, if he was nervous or simply annoyed with her continued presents. So for a moment, the two of them just stood there, like uneasy statues.

'Come on, Henry,' interrupted the older gentleman, with a mane of bright red hair, who threw an arm around the younger man's neck and pulled him away, 'there'll be a plenty of time for wenching later,'

Katarin watched as the handsome, young stranger was lead away into the castle and saw him turn back, before he disappeared behind a door, and once again their eyes briefly met. There was something in that look, which caused Katarin to once again feel her heartbeat frantically and goose bumps to appear in a tingle over her body.

'_Katarin!'_ called Judoc, grabbing hold of her hand and shaking her slight, in annoyance about seeing her eyes and lips studying the outline of another man, _'don't bother with him. He's tainted and cursed. They say he's meant to be the Earl of Richmond, yet he can never have his inheritance and he's forced to walk around this godforsaken country, until he dies of old age or the King of England has him killed,'_

'_This is the most beautiful land on God's earth!' _cried Katarin, stomping her clogged feet hard on the stone courtyard as her lips screamed her patriotic cry-it was at this moment that she realised her mother would have to forget about marrying her off to Judoc-for Katarin now wanted the exiled Earl of Richmond.

'_Mother, __in God's name are you doing!'_ hissed Roland, hurrying into the small room, hoping he had not been followed, and threw his arms around her, '_you swore you would cause no trouble, if I got you into the household,'_

'_And I haven't, have I, my darling boy,' _smiled Katarin, kissing her son on the cheek, before pulling away, '_its just this dress is so beautiful and I have never owned something of such quality...Do you think this is the dress, in which she plans to let your father have her as an honest woman,' _

'_Mother don't,' _muttered Roland, only his mother did not hear him.

'_I think it will be,'_ continued Katarin, as she only again ran her hands over finely made bodice, pulling it down ever so slightly to reveal the roundness of her breasts as she looked back into glass, '_she will look the perfect little virgin bride in this dress. The perfect picture of innocent, only the fabric will be pulled so tight, so she can tease her groom into pulling her straight up to their bedchamber and...,'_

'_Mother don't!' _pleaded Roland, feeling his head start to pound as he once again heard his mother enter her black moods of despair. He hated seeing her like this, a woman, who could be bright and witty at times-it must have been these characteristics, which had caused his father (and his stepfather for that matter), to fall in love with her. But now she was all broken and bitter.

'_Why not, my boy!' _cried Katarin, looking shocked as she turned to face her son with almost tears on her face, _'its true! I see through her! I see the way she looks at your father with those flirty eyes. Everyone thinks she so sweet, but she's no Holy Madonna. I see her whispering in his ear, teasing him with her hot words. My mother called me whore when I got with you, but I was no whore! I fell in love and all I wanted was your father and the home he promised me! I cared nothing about the pretty jewels he could get me...do you think there's away to put poison into this dress,' _

'_Mother!'_

'_It will serve them both right, her dying in her lover's arms on their wedding day!'_

Roland stared at his mother, her lips all twisted and bent in an expression, which resembled the painted fingers of those dancing in the flames of Hell, that were adored on many a chapel wall. What had his father done to her? When he was a boy, he always thought her so happy, but as he had grown, he had seen the veil fall from his eyes. He saw that the eyes he always thought laughing, were actually sad and constantly trying to suppress tears. He witnessed those tender moments of affection she and his step-father shared, reveal themselves to be nothing more, than one sided kisses from the man, who raised him, desperately wanting the love of his wife.

'_Mother,'_ Roland said carefully, '_did you ever love Loic?'_

'_A little,' _she replied, not flinching at her son's strange question as she continued to run her hands up and down the dress, imaging the dress' true owner gasping for help as poison seeped into her body, '..._maybe...at first, but he was such a weak man, no mind to him at all. Do you know, the only time he ever shouted at me was just before he died and even then, it was just a sulky cry of , "Your prince ain't coming for you, Katarin,"'_

'_And he was right,' _thought Roland, as he slowly approached his mother and placed a hand gently across her shoulders. He hated his father, that was true, for he had driven his mother to the brink of madness with his broken promises, but as the months had drift by, he found his hate did not drive him to extract a bloody revenge. He had seen what had happened when the little Princess had accidently drank the poisoned wine. He had seen the poor pale girl, almost robbed of her innocent young life because the bitterness, their father had caused Roland and his mother...but she did not deserve to suffer. Nor did the Spanish Princess. After all, she was not to know. It was clear that the King had block the whole event of his time in Brittany from his mind, so he obviously had not told his sweet young bride-she, like the little Princess did not deserve to die. And, as much as Roland hated to admit it, it was clear that despite all the differences that there was between them, that the beautiful lady from Spain, was deeply in love with Roland's father, _'Mother, perhaps it would be for the best if...'_

But Roland did not get a chance to once again persuade his mother that it would be for the best that they returned to their old cottage near Nantes, for as he spoke the door flew open and in strolled Lord Strange, followed by a man, who was clearly in his employ and a third, draped in a black cloak.

'Well, well, Roland,' he smiled, as he noticed the strange woman dressed in a slightly ill-fitting dress, 'whats going on here? Not interrupting anything, I hope?'

'Lord Strange,' said Roland, going into a bow as he signalled for his mother to come forward, 'may I introduce my mother, Madame de Velville,'

'Charmed,' Lord Strange nodded, noticing that the black haired lady was very eye-catching, despite the few laughter lines on her face, 'may I commend you, Madame on raising such a good son, one who, though not of this land, wants to see the Pretender off this country's ancient throne,'

'You should thank his father for that,' replied Katarin, flicking Lord Strange an icily look, for now she had made up her mind to never trust another man, except her son, 'I just washed and clothed him,'

'The two of most important things a mother can do,' he laughed, remembering his own mother, the sweet woman who had been at his father's side for so many years, before he decided to throw his lot in with that plotting harpy and her precious son, who she had tried to make him choose over his oldest son and heir, 'well anyway, back to business. Now as our attempts so far have been fruitless, especially as this traitorous city seems to have taken the incestuous couple to their heart,'

'You would have thought this city would be up in arms,' snarled the other man, in an uncouth way with spit almost flying from his mouth, 'to see its favourite daughter so cruelly replaced with some young foreign stumpet,'

'Only they don't see her that way,' interrupted Katarin, circling them all with a disbelieving eye-why were men always so foolish when it came to women?, 'they see her as the sweet little Virgin maid, who wants to be for her people on Earth, what the Holy Mother is for them in Heaven. The fact that she entertains the King on her back most nights, never once crosses their minds, cause all they see is the sweet girl wanting to easy their pain,'

Lord Strange raised his eyebrow as he laughed out of the corner of his mouth. There was something strangely impressive about this woman, for her logic was perfect, despite him doubting that Henry had taken his little sweetheart to bed-for Henry would never risk getting with child before they got to the altar- but she was right. People hated Henry. They saw him as distant and cold. So to see once again a beautiful, angelic woman by his side gave the people hope that they had an intercessor with their King; with this Princess Catalina de Aragon, they had the mercy and heart, which had been missing since the death of Elizabeth, back alongside Henry's power and authority. But what Lord Strange could not understand, was why this foreign, serving woman, spoke with such bitterness.

'Well quite,' he grinned, walking away from the group and leaning against the tapestry depicting Rebekah, Isaac, Jacob and Esau as he signalled for the young, skinny man dressed in a black coat, who had so far remained silent, to take the floor, 'that is why Brother Marcus, who has been chosen to perform a sermon for the King in the Minister tomorrow is going to help, is that not right, Brother?'

'Yes!' Brother Marcus replied with as much fiery determination as Katarin, though Roland noted that it was due to a zealous conviction more than bitter heartache of life, 'the people and his Highness need reminding that it is against the holy law of God for a man to take and lie with his son's wife. Alas the Archbishop is too much of a materialist man for him to ever dare remind the King, but I serve no worldly goods and long only to save men's souls!'

* * *

Lord Strange... George, continued to smile as he left the four others and closed the door behind him, as he needed to return to the banquet before anyone noticed he was missing. He felt strangely satisfied with this current plan, despite the two previous assassination attempts going wrong. For this plan could not fail, because once the people saw and heard that God had taken away his divine sanction of Henry's Kingship, then Henry would slip even further away from God's grace. An assassination, might then prove more easy, maybe one in public, where the people would quietly turn a blind eye, rather than help their King.

'God save the King!' chuckled George, loudly to himself as he rested against the door, 'yes, God save the King!'

'George!' bellowed Thomas Stanley, Earl of Derby as he strolled done the corridor towards his oldest son, 'there you are boy! I have been looking for you everywhere!'

'Father!' exclaimed a startled George, trying to recover his shock at seeing his father, 'I did not think you were arriving until tomorrow evening,'

'Your mother summoned me, telling me I was to come post haste. And you know you can never ignore a command from mother! Christ, she have me hung, drawn and quartered, before I even had a chance to say sorry,' he laughed, as he slapped his son across the back, noticing how flimsy his usually strong son was, before he threw an arm around George's shoulder, 'you are not plotting anything, are you George?,'

'Me, Father,' answered George, trying to perfect that look of innocence and care free laughter, which had always worked as a child, 'of course not. I would never betray the family, the way uncle did,'

'Mmm,'

'Oh leave the boy be, husband!' interrupted Lady Margaret, appearing in the corridor as if by magic or divine grace, causing George to feel his heart almost collapse for a second time in only a few moment, 'George, believe it or not, is not the reason I have called you here early,'

'Margaret, my dear wife,' grinned Thomas Stanley, turning his attention away from his oldest son to his wife, who despite their marriage being one of connivance, he had found that they worked well together, 'how do it, my dear? How do you always appear at just the right moment?'

'I have been blessed by God, husband,' she said, without a hint of emotion as she offered her cheek for him to ceremonially kiss, which they had rehearsed to perfection over the years, 'besides I knew you would not fail me husband,'

'Never, wife,' he replied, still with a wide grin, as he offered her his arm, 'now what has Thomas been up to now? Not been gambling away my legacy again,'

'No for once, it is not Thomas,' sighed Lady Margaret, shaking her head as she took hold of her husband's arm, before turning her attention to her oldest step-son, 'George you may go. I wish to discuss matters with your father in private,'

Sucking in his bottom lip, Lord Strange bowed briefly, before disappearing down the corridor to the waiting crowds of courtiers. He hated his step-mother due to her dominance and self-importance, especially the way she made others always place their own beliefs and loves behind her own. She had expected his father to sacrifice him-the eldest son and heir-for the sake of her child, a man Lord Strange's father had never laid eyes on and for that George could never forgive her. But it was not just this hate, which caused him to depart as quickly as possible-it was the fear that his step-mother's sixth sense had alerted her to his plotting.

'So if it is not George and its not Thomas,' said Thomas Stanley as he watch his oldest son disappear, 'then it must be Henry,'

'Yes,' sighed Lady Margaret, wearily as she lead the two of them down the corridor, 'I do not know what I am going to do with that boy,'

'Wife, you do know that Henry is not a boy anymore and that he is in fact King,'

'Then he should start behaviour as one,' snapped Lady Margaret, turning on her husband, her anger increasing as he just laughed, 'do not mock me, husband!'

'Oh my poor silly wife!'

'Do not patronise me either, Thomas! Remember what happened to your dear brother, when he said the wrong thing!,'

'Yes I remember,' he muttered, as his suspicious eyes became drawn together, revealing the lines on his forehead that had grown deeper through years of conspiracy, 'but remember Margaret, if you are upset for the reasons I suspect, you were the one who wanted Henry to become sweet on that little Princess in the first place,'

Margaret went to answer, but for a moment, she was silent and just continued to glare at husband, trying to find the words to contradict his argument. Though this was something that was difficult to achieve with the Earl of Derby, because while Lady Margaret Beaufort was certainly the mistress of intrigue, he was undoubtedly the master.

'Do not try and protest, Margaret,' smiled Thomas Stanley, reclaiming her arm, 'I heard all about your little stunt in the chapel. Poor Henry never stood a chance,'

'I was just doing what was best for Henry. Do you know how heartbreaking it was to see my poor boy tear himself apart with grief?,' answered the Queen Mother, her voice still in a tone of defiance. It had hurt her deeply to see her only child withdraw from the world after two successive tragedies and there was no denying that Henry now had a smile back on his face. But that was all it was meant to be- a smile-it was not meant to be anything more, 'she was just meant to be a breeder. Give Henry a child to dote on and ease his troubles,'

'Except Henry has grown rather too fond of his little play thing,' said Thomas Stanley with a chuckle as he allowed himself a brief moment to reflect on fairer sex. It must be nice to a young woman, affectionately and loving devoted to you with a passion, who could not wait to give her youthful, unblemished body to you but then, Stanley knew that he had taken that path, he would not be in the privilege position that he was today.

'Oh my boy has grown more than fond of her!,' snorted Margaret as she let her mask of complete religious decorum slip briefly, 'no, she has some sort of spell over my poor Henry. She has him following her around like a love struck stable boy!'

'Are you sure you do not mean lust struck, my dear wife,' laughed Thomas Stanley one last time, before resuming the mask of an experienced plotter, which had made his second marriage so successful, despite its almost complete lack of affection, 'but listen, Margaret. Surely if Henry is in love and lust with her, then that can only be a good thing for us all...because the sooner he gets that ring on her finger, then the sooner he can get her on her back in the bedchamber and get you the much needed grandson you have been converting. Besides, at least with this one you do not have to worry about her loyalties, if another pretender should appear,'

They had reached the door to the great hall by this point and could looking in on where the court and their family were still waiting to eat, as despite Henry's presence, he had ordered them to wait for the Queen Mother and the Princesses Catalina and Mary.

'Oh husband,' laughed Lady Margaret as she forced a rare smile for the court, 'you know, occasionally you have the ability to talk sense and easy my mind,'

But as she and her husband took their places, underneath her forced smile, Lady Margaret could not help but let her mind and heart fill strained. For no matter how much she reminded herself that she had encourage her son to fall for the pretty, well connected Infanta, she could not help but fear for her position both at court and in her son's heart, especially as she saw Henry's eyes light up as his bride entered the room.

* * *

'Father,' smiled Mary sweetly, as she leaned across from where she sat between her sister and soon to be step-mother, 'please may I dance?'

'Of course Mary,' said Henry, with nod as he returned his youngest daughter's smiled as he took a sip of wine, 'but who shall we get as your partner?'

As Henry thought, Mary eagerly tugged on Catalina's green silk sleeves, pulling her down to Mary's little height. Brushing Catalina's auburn hair to the side, Mary whispered into her ear, cupping her hand as she did so, so that no one else could hear her 'secret'.

'Please ask him,' pleaded Mary, her bottom lip trembling as she pulled away, 'and ask him nicely, please,'

'I will, my little Maria,' cooed Catalina, kissing the little girl on the forehead before turning back to Henry, 'Your Highness, Princess Mary would like your permission to dance with Charles Brandon,'

'Mmm,' Henry sighed, glancing over at where his former standard bearer's son, who was with a group of other young courtiers on a table near the rear of the room. There was no denying that Henry was fond of the young man, whose father had saved his life at Bosworth but it unsettled him to see little Mary following the lad around with lovesick eyes. For it was not right for her to grow too attach to him, for Mary when she was grown could never be his-she was intended for a Prince or King, 'perhaps...'

'Please, Father, please,' cried Mary, little tears starting swell in her large, round eyes, 'I will never ask you for anything ever again,'

'Oh please, You Highness,' smiled Catalina, placing a hand on top on Henry's, 'what harm could do?'

Henry turned to answer, only to find Catalina's face only inches away his, her blue eyes large and wide, her bright red lips smiling softly. For a moment, he fell under the power of her innocent beauty, in which he found his train of thought completely lost to him.

'Please, father, please!'

'Mary,' answered Henry sternly as came back to his normal self, as the sound of someone dropping a tankard on the floor woke him up, 'I don't think...'

'Let her, Henry,' whispered Catalina, as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze, 'I fail to see what harm it can do?'

'She is just a child,' muttered Henry, moving slightly closer to his bride-to-be, 'and its cruel to encourage such silly things,'

'And she will grow out of it and marry who you wish,'

Henry paused for a moment and look over at little Mary, who was looking up at him with those wide eyes and found his conviction in refusing her, faltering. Why did he always find it so hard to say no to his youngest child? Was it because she was born at a time when it looked as though there could be another fight for the throne of England, thanks to that Flemish little upstart? Was he trying to make amends for the turmoil of the past?

'Very well,' sighed Henry as he pointed a finger at Charles and indicated for him to approach the top table, 'Charles, my daughter Mary would like to dance, would you please accompany her,'

'Of course, Your Highness,' smiled Charles, hiding perfectly his feelings of annoyance at once again having to put up with the little Princess, who would follow him around like a little puppy dog, 'it would be a pleasure,'

'She will grow out of her feelings,' whispered Catalina, tightening her hold on Henry's hand as the two of them watch Mary skip gaily to the dance floor, 'its just a harmless little love,'

'I just don't want her hurt,' replied Henry gruffly, turn away briefly, before he had chance to think, only to quickly return and kissing Catalina on cheek in a guilty after thought, which caused several in the hall to raise an eyebrow.

'If its age differences you are so worried about, Sir,' muttered Harry, taking a gulp of wine, hoping it would ease his churning stomach, which had got worse as he saw his father run a finger down the cheek of the lady, Harry wanted desperately to marry, 'perhaps you should cast an eye in the mirror before lecturing others!,'

'What Harry?' called the King over his shoulder to his son. Things had gotten no better between them since their little chat on the tennis court and when they did talk, Henry would have to put up with his son's 'clever' comments.

'I was wondering, sir,' replied Harry, jumping out of his chair and offering his father a rare bow, 'if you would allow me the honour of a dance with my future mother,'

Henry looked at Catalina, who once again smiled with encouragement to him-for she was relieved that it looked as though Harry was coming around to the idea of their marriage. Not wanting to dishearten her with his fears that his son was playing one of his games or to cause a scene, which would show that the Royal Family as being less than united, he nodded his head in agreement.

The King did not smile, but the Prince of Wales did as he eagerly rushed over to his future step-mother's side and offered her his arm. However, as Catalina got to her feet to accept, the looks of mirth altered, as the Dowager Princess of Wales leaned forward and kissed the King gently on the lips, altering Henry's scowl to a smile and Harry's cheeky grin, to a look of distain.

As they walked to the dance floor, Harry's mood did not improve as he noticed as his father talked with the Earl of Oxford, who had just appeared at his side, his eye were alive and he was unable to take them off of the Infanta. But what made the taste of bile in Harry's mouth grow even stronger, was that his beautiful dance partner's eyes were locked with his father's and her red lips were signally him a secret smile.

'You know father does not dance,' said Harry as the music started, 'even when he was young, mother always had to find others to partner her,'

'I do not mind,' smiled Catalina, as she turned her attention to Harry as she let him place a hand around her hip and the two of them started to move in time with the music, 'its been a long time since we last danced together, Harry. You have grown taller,'

'I am older,' grinned Harry, happy that he finally had her attention, 'you know, my mother always said I was the perfect image of her father and he was a great King,'

Catalina nodded her response as her and Harry briefly broke away to join with another partner, before being reunited. As they danced, Harry let himself once again think that he was still going to marry the pretty Princess from Spain, who was currently dancing gracefully in his arms and whose exotic laughter sound more beautiful than the music in his ears. For a second, Harry still believed that she would be his Princess of Wales and later his Queen.

'But your father is a great King also,' answered Catalina in a rich voice as the music came to a halt, bringing Harry's world of dreams to an end. She was not his, for despite their brief dance, for despite her letting him place an arm round her slender waist, she was still meant for his father-the man, whose eyes studied every grove of her perfect body as she stooped down in a curtsey.

'Well not as great Henry V,' continued Harry, in desperation as he noticed the way the Spanish Princess looked up at the King from under her eyelids as she moved out of her curtsey and that secret smile was once again on her red lips.

'Did she really want that old man,' thought Harry as the two of them went to back to their seats, 'was Margaret right, that Catalina enjoy having their father tongue imbedded deep in her throat and his rough hands groping her prefect firmed breasts. Was it s sign that she longed for the current King to do a lot more to her body.

Of course she did not. That would be a ridiculous notion, why would someone as young and breathtaking as Catalina, lust after a man as old and as cruel as father. She was under a spell, seduced by promises of crowns and pretty things-Harry just had to find away to break his father's magic.

'You know, except for that one moment,' Harry called, as he followed behind Catalina, 'father has never lead his men into battle,'

Catalina stopped as she just reached her seat, noticing how Henry's ears pricked up at his son's words. Why was Harry behaving in such a manner, thought Catalina as she glanced back at her future stepson and saw seriousness in his young face. She thought they were friends. They had always laughed and joke with each other, since she arrived on these shores. He had seen her cry after Arthur's death-surely Harry would be happy for her? But then everything was happening so fast, maybe he thought her trying to replace his mother-after all poor Queen Elizabeth had been lying cold for less a year. Under her breath, Catalina said a prayer for the soul of the woman, who had always been so kind to her, before deciding that she should speak with him, but first, they need to get through the night, without any hint of drama.

'But your father has won everyone of his battles,' replied Catalina, sitting down beside Henry and once again taking hold of his hand, 'there is more to war than death and glory, Harry. What use is a King, who longs to charge to his death on the battlefield?'

'Exactly, Your Highness,' interrupted the Earl of Oxford, who was now leaning on the back of the King's chair, 'that's what he has me for,'

Harry glanced over at everyone in the great chamber and at that moment, he thought himself the only sane person in the hall. His Father was behaving as if he was a man half his age, drooling over a girl, who by rights should be his daughter-in-law and to get her, his Father had used every trick he knew. Harry glared at his father, trying to figure out what had taken place to cause the beautiful Princess to feel herself in love with an old man. Had he promised to buy her pretty things, thought Harry. Had he used the Queen of England's diamonds, rubies and pearls as a way into Catalina's heart? Had he promised her much more, if she consented to be his wife? And if none of these things, what sweet words had he hissed into her ear, to get him the chance to get between her thighs? And what made all this worse, was the no one was prepared to say anything against this ridiculous match.

Catalina had been married to his brother and then she was meant to be Harry's wife-not his step-mother! Not at one point had Catalina ever expressed a desire to be his father's bride! She had always said she had wanted Harry to be her new husband and champion. So why was she now holding his Father hand? And more importantly, why was no one around them putting a stop to this nonsense?

Margaret was all words, screaming in private that the Spanish harlot was taking their mother's place at their Father's side, but when it came to actual action, she did nothing, just remained tight lipped with a scowl on her face. Then there was his Grandmother, a woman who prided herself on her piety and devotion. Yet when it came to her son seducing his daughter-in-law, something which the church clearly stated was a sin in the eyes of God, she was prepared to turn the other way. And so was the rest of the court, all of them acting as if there was nothing wrong at its centre, even his mother's former servants, who his Father had transferred to Catalina continued to laugh and smile, as if there was nothing wrong with the King dressing up a girl in the former Queen's dresses and jewels.

Harry's eyes once again returned to his father and Catalina, who were both now in deep conversation with the Earl of Oxford, who was still leaning causally over the back of their chairs. Not that Harry noticed this detail, as his eyes were still transfix on to the Royal couples linked hands, especially the way his father's thumb kept stroking the delicate skin of the Infanta's.

'Do you know, Catalina,' Harry continued, throwing himself down in his chair and reaching for a goblet of wine, which he knocked back very quickly, 'that my father is no King Solomon,'

'Harry,' replied Henry coolly, getting to his feet and approaching his son as calmly as possible, 'I think its time you left the wine alone and went to bed,'

'Do you know father can drink when he wants to,' said Harry, ignoring his father, but raising his voice slightly, so that those courtiers, including his Grandmother, who was seated near, heard every word, 'the first time he was in York, him and his men drunk York dry,'

'Harry,' whispered Catalina, coming to stand by Henry's side, 'please, don't,'

'You deserve to know the truth, Catalina,' he pleaded, his voice losing its harshness as he tried to appeal to her, 'Father gambles too. He lost £37 on the eve of the Battle of Stoke, not to mention that him losing money to uncle Thomas last night after you retired to bed,'

'Yet while Father and Uncle were playing cards,' muttered Margaret without any emotion as she stared down at the food on her plate, 'you and your friends were playing dice,'

His mouth hanging open, Harry stared at his older sister, not believing that she appeared to be defending their Father. She had spent such a long time raging at their Father and the Princess, convinced that they had been making the bed creak to breaking point as their mother and new-born sister lay dying. Yet now, as Harry trying to make the world see sense, it seemed his strongest supporter was switching sides.

'Margaret, we are meant to be allies!'

'We are allies, we are brother and sister,' she said coldly, getting to her feet and glancing over at Catalina, who met her gaze without flinching, 'but I will not fight with you on this. Father, I am tired, may I be excused?'

'Yes, Margaret,' nodded Henry in approval, as holding tight onto Catalina's hand, 'in fact Mary and Harry, I think you should join your sister,'

'Yes, Father,' chirped Mary, running over to the little group and taking hold of sister's hand, 'night, Father, Madre, Grandmother, Grandfather and Uncle Thomas and Uncle George . Harry, are you coming?'

'Yes, Mary,' said Harry, rather loudly as he walked over and took hold of her little hand, before calling to his father over his shoulder, 'will our sister Catalina be joining us, Your Highness or do you have other uses for your other daughter tonight?'

As Harry's roar left his mouth, the entire chamber went silent, goblets of wine poised in mid air, dance steps incomplete and conversations unfinished, as everyone turned towards the King and Dowager Princess of Wales.

* * *

'I thought you wanted me to go to bed, Your Highness,' smiled Harry, as he flopped himself down in a chair, happy as he seen the look of discomfort run across his father's face as he had hurled Harry out of the hall.

'I think we should have a quiet word,' replied Henry, without any emotion as he shut the chamber door, leaving the court still at supper and fun, and locked himself in the privacy of the Archbishop of York's library with his only living son, 'don't you, boy?'

'I am not a boy,' snapped Harry, finding his buoyant mood quickly altered as he viewed his Father was once again forgetting Harry's royal status, 'I am a man and more importantly, I am the Prince of Wales!'

'Then maybe you should start acting like one,' said Henry, still with no emotion as he sat down opposite his son at the reading desk. He left it a moment, before he continued. Instead for a moment, he let his hands study a map, which had been left out by Mary earlier in the day, wondering if there was a ruler somewhere else on God's earth, who had the same problems with his son as he, 'tell me, Harry, what is wrong?'

'You took what is rightfully mine, father,' answered Harry, without an inch of shame or fear as he looked his father in the eyes, 'and not only that, you flaunt it as though it was natural, as though you were still a young man and King,'

'I am still alive, Harry!'

'But you are not a young King, are you father, yet you kiss that poor young girl as though you are the same age as her. I saw the way you were kissing her in the garden. Your old body pinning her up against the tree as you stuck your tongue her throat and let your hands grope her breasts,'

Henry looked his son straight in the eyes as he wondered what had gone so badly wrong, for him and Harry to have such a strained relationship. True, he had been closer to poor Arthur and Harry had spent much more time with Elizabeth, but he had never neglected the boy. Perhaps, he should have made more of an effort to included Harry in the activities he shared with Arthur, but it had never been because Henry preferred one son over the other. No, it had been because he had believed the his first born child-the boy, whose birth signalled to Henry the his exile was truly over-would be the one to carry on the legacy. How was Henry to know that as they said goodbye to the turbulent old century, it was all to go horrible and tragically wrong. Besides, they had been a family...a family that Henry had loved with all his supposed black heart, and who on those dark days when it looked like the throne of England might once again be decided on the battlefield, it was the thought of their loving embrace, that had driven the battle weary Henry, to once again fight for the crown. So to hear his son speak so bitterly to him, had Henry bewildered.

'You are still a boy, Harry,' he sighed, though he did not show even Harry any sign of weakness, 'and my son and I deserve some respect,'

'Respect is something that works both ways, father. I would have though after all your years in power, you would understand such things,' snarled Harry, sitting up in his chair, trying to emphasis his height, despite the fact his Father still towered over him, 'besides, you do not show Catalina any?'

'And you do, do you Harry?' replied Henry, deciding that the only way to deal with his child, was to handle him as though he was a member of government, 'back there you basically implied she was an incestuous whore. Hardly a sign of respect,'

'No I did not,' Harry answered back, forgetting that he was trying to prove he was a man, 'what I said...'

'What you said, was that I would send my daughter, Catalina to bed with the rest of my children or did I have other duties for her,' continued the King of England, speaking still as though he was dealing with a foreign ambassador or a troublesome Member of Parliament, 'that my other plans for her was to bribe her with sweetmeats to get her onto my knee and her tongue in my mouth,'

'I did not say that!' snapped Harry, jumping to his feet and banging his fist impatiently on the desk, 'I just said that you might want her to stay up for the reasons why you wanted us all to go to bed. And if I called her your daughter, its because she is,'

'In that case, Harry, Catalina is your sister,' said Henry, glancing down at his son balled fists with a raised eyebrow as he watched them slowly unravel, 'yet, I don't think that was your reason for disguise,'

Harry swallowed hard as he tried to forget, that all through his attempts to persuade Catalina to cease with her plans to marry his Father, he had pictured himself marrying her. It would be a lie, not just to himself and to his Father, but also to God, if Harry denied that his sole aim in stopping his Father's new marriage, was so that his Father, feeling a sense of shame over his behaviour or that Catalina, would wake up from the spell placed on her and demand to marry Harry.

'You said I could marry her and she said she wanted to marry me,' answered Harry, trying to find his voice as he slouched back down in his chair, 'then suddenly, poor mother is dead and you are behaving as though you are a young swain, pulling a girl, who is young enough to be your child, into secret corners for kisses and fumbles,'

'Is this what it is all about, Harry,' replied Henry, in a softer tone at the mention of his first wife, 'your Mother?'

'Mother,' Harry started but then stopped as he felt a brief sense of shame wash over him as his father mention the only person Harry had loved more than life itself, for she should be the reason he felt hurt by all this; that his father, within a few months of her tragic death, was replacing her with a girl almost half her age. It was the reason for Margaret's anguish, until she had suddenly gone quiet on the matter, but for Harry it had been the furthest from his mind...except for the fact that father had ruined his mother. Yes, yes he had. Everyone had said she was not strong enough to carry another child, but Father had moaned so much about Arthur dying and how Harry would not survive on his own, that he had forced her by guilt to get with child again, only for it to kill her, 'you ruined Mother!'

'Harry, show me some respect,' muttered Henry coolly, trying to hide his hurt at his son's word, 'you know nothing of what past between your Mother and me, like you know nothing about me and Catalina,'

'My Mother was a young, beautiful princess, daughter of a great King, until you took all that away from her!'

'Harry, may I remind you that you claim to the throne comes from no one but me,' answered the King, still hiding the hurt his son had inflicted on him with his cruel words, 'and I loved your Mother,'

'Like you love Catalina,' replied Harry quickly, twisting his lips into a taunting grin as he spotted a weakness in his father, 'you only love for your own selfish gain Father and you fool them into loving you. I'm too young to know how you did it with Mother, but I see what you do with Catalina. You buy her pretty things, you dress her up in the Queen of England's jewels and tell her how beautiful she is and how she would she make a great Queen. You pull her into corners or on to your knee, stroking her breasts and thighs as you whisper she will have a lot more pretty things if she is a good girl and does exactly what you say,'

Slowly Henry got to his feet and without saying a word, walked a few paces to the front of the desk, his boots making the only noise in the darken chamber, before coming to rest by his son.

'If you think that, Harry, then you don't know women at all,' sighed Henry, leaning cross armed against the desk, 'was your Grandmother just a silly girl, when she helped put this family on the throne of England?'

'You are never comparing Catalina with Grandmother, are you father?' cried Harry, with a shout of disbelief at the notion of comparing the sweet Spanish Princess with the stone cold faced Countess of Richmond, 'that is ridicules!'

'The only thing thats ridicules is you, Harry,' muttered Henry, hating being cruel to his child, as he return to his seat, but his wedding to Catalina was only days away and he wanted nothing to ruin what he wanted to be a perfect day, not just to show that the Tudor regime was once again stable, but so his bride could finally have the wedding day she deserved, 'what is all this truly about?'

'You think yourself Solomon,' replied Harry, his face still slightly chubby with puppy fat, trying to mirror his Father, 'but you are a fool if you cannot see what this is about. You are too old! Too old to be looking starry eyed at such a young girl. Too old to be stealing kissing from her and certainly too old to groping her duckies. You are selfish Father, forcing yourself on a young girl, who does not truly want you and who should be someone else's,'

'You mean, you, Harry?'

'Yes me Father, you said I could marry her...no more than that you, promised! Then what happens, you catch a glimpse of her chest and imagine her warm arse in your hands, then you are willing to break every rule, despite the world laughing at you. And they do laugh. Mocking you behind closed doors, laughing at their King, who thinks a girl young enough to be his daughter is in love with him! And she is not in love with you, Father. No matter how many presents you buy her, you will never have her heart! Oh, she may look at you all sweetly, but that is because- and I think we will both agree- Catalina is too sweet a maid, that she cannot bring herself to hurt your feelings,'

'Is that all, Harry?' asked Henry, solemnly as he leaned forward on the desk and placing his hands together in prayer as he saw his son nodded his head, 'good. Now I suggest, Harry that you go to bed and remember that the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,'

'Is that a threat, Father!' roared Harry, even more disgusted with his Father, as to Harry this unlocked the true meaning of his Father's wooing of sweet Catalina-he wanted a son off of her, who he could mould him into another Arthur and replace Harry as Prince of Wales.

'No, Harry, its a fact, especially true in the world we live in and especially true for Kings who are still founders and not the heirs with a hundred years of history behind them,' replied Henry, not letting the hurt his son caused him show as he reached for his Book of Hours, which had been unpacked and left on the library desk with all the rest of his books, 'now go to bed, sleep off the wine and tomorrow you will join the rest of us at the Minister, where you will be the perfect Prince of Wales and more importantly, the perfect son to me and the perfect stepson-to-be to Catalina. Now off to bed!'

Harry wanted to roar and argue, to lash out and hurt his Father with all the pain he could inflict, but Harry knew there was no point. His Father was right, they could not afford to show turmoil within the family, for it would mean weakness and perhaps, God forbid, another Bosworth, were this time the Tudors might not be on the winning side. Therefore, not wanting to risk his inheritance, Harry stormed out of the library without a bow, slamming the door hard behind him.

As the noise of the door echoed through Henry's mind, he thumbed the pages of the book, trying, despite the loneliness of the chamber, not to show the grief his son had caused him. He had always thought he was a good father, maybe he was not always been there and maybe he was not always openly affectionate, but he thought himself good nevertheless. After all, he knew what it was like to have no father. True, he had had Jasper, who would rather have died, than let anyone harm a hair on Henry's head, but despite the love he had for his dear uncle, it never truly made up for part of Henry's heart that was constantly missing.

Finally, he found the page he was looking for and the lose piece of well worn paper feel out. Henry smiled as he saw it flutter down on to the desk and eagerly picked it up, as he knew this letter from long ago, always held the key to easing some of his pain.

'_My dear, sweet husband,' _Henry read and suddenly he was back in another world. A world in which for the first time, Henry had truly felt he had found a place to belong. It was a world, in which not only did he have his mother permanently by his side, but he had a family. A family full of happy, smiling children, who would excitedly rush to greet their father with hugs and kisses and a devoted wife, who he loved so much, that it never crossed his mind, that God may one day take her away from him.

He wanted all of that again with Catalina and he would admit the love he bore her was different than the love he bore Elizabeth, but it did not stop his yearning for a time, when peace and love had been the centre of his family and not the bitterness of Harry and the coldness of Margaret. So much so was Henry wrapped up in dreams of times gone by, that he failed to hear the creak of the door and the gentle footsteps of Catalina.


	15. Chapter 15

**Once again, I am so sorry for my poor time keeping- I really hope this chapter will make up for it. Also in chapter 4 I said in this story Roland will be born in 1484, however in this chapter and a few previous, I have placed his birth in late 1483, so that Katarin can be holding him in his arms when Henry VII swears to marry Elizabeth of York-sorry for the change.**

**Big thank you for all my reviews and to everyone who is reading this story-I love you all. And a super massive thank you to TudorGirl910489 and Vain X Life Poetess for all your help, advice and making sure I never quite-I could not have done any of this without the two of you. **

_You were the love  
for certain of my life  
you were simply my beloved wife  
I don't know for certain  
how I'll live my life  
now alone without my beloved wife  
my beloved wife_

_I can't believe  
I've lost the very best of me_

**Beloved Wife by Natalie Merchant **

'Your Highness?' whispered Catalina softy as she gently placed a hand on Henry's shoulder, though he appeared not to hear her words as his eyes did not leave paper he held in his hands, 'Henry?'

'Mmm,' Henry mumbled, his eyes still studying the words as his mind went back in a time, to a place where his second son was not raging against him, his oldest daughter never accused him of being cruel and peace reigned in his household, 'oh sorry,'

With a slight jump as he felt a finger gently stroke the side of his face, his hands quickly put down letter from his first wife as he turned to face the Princess, who in a few days time would be his second.

'Did you speak to Harry?' she smiled, as he took hold of her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, 'is everything well?'

'I have told him to sleep off the wine,' replied Henry, returning her smile as he kissed her hand, suddenly feeling physical comfort, 'hopefully tomorrow he will mend his behaviour,'

'Do not be too hard on him, Henry. It must be difficult for him and I suppose for all her words, Margaret too. It cannot be easy seeing the lady, that they were told to think of as their sister suddenly taking their mother's place,'

'Things never do seem to be easy,' sighed Henry, not wanting to reveal to his young bride what was really happening his son's mind, for he was not sure how she would take the news that her future stepson thought himself in love with her. He did not think his young fiancée reciprocate Harry's feelings-it would break his world in two, if he had any notion of that being the case- but he could not bring himself to tell her the truth about Harry's misbehaviour, for fear of the guilt it would bring her, 'especially where that boy is concerned,'

'Oh Henry,' smiled Catalina, as she placed her arms around his shoulders and hugged him, 'you are too hard on poor Harry. In a year from now, when we are married and have a child, all will be well and Harry will see us all as a family,'

'If only it was that easy,' thought Henry, before turning to Catalina, 'one can prayer,'

'Yes and all will be well,' continued Catalina, without a hint of worry about her future stepson's behaviour, 'now let us focus on our wedding. It will be such a happy occasion, we should all think on that,'

Henry paused for a moment and briefly let his eyes fall on the letter from Elizabeth, as he realized that whatever troubles he now had, that God had given him a chance to find happiness again. The comments of his son had hurt him, there was no denying that, but that was nothing compared to pain and torture, Henry would face he allowed himself to lose Catalina. The physical man, who worn the sacred crown, and hide behind coldness, was longing to banishing his demons of loneliness and heartbreak.

'Yes, you're right,' he said, returning her smile as he gently pulled her towards him, so that she was now perched on the edge of his knee. For a moment, he thought she might pull away and for a moment, he thought he should as well. After all Harry had been right-only a few months previous, the world and himself had seen Catalina as his daughter and for a split second the notion of her, curled up on his lap with their arms around each other, made him feel uncomfortable and hate himself, for betraying the memory of his beloved Arthur. But as he felt the full fabric of her skirts on his lap and her hand on his chest, Henry felt a strange sense of peace, as if her being with him was the most natural thing in the whole world, 'now tell me, what do you have planned for our wedding?'

'I spoke with the Mayor, whilst you were with Harry,' continued Catalina, talking very animatedly as she rested her head on his shoulder, 'he congratulated us on our forth coming marriage,'

'And so he should, the amount of grief this city has put me through' interrupted Henry, his eyes darkening, only to quickly alter when he saw his bride-to-be's bright blue eyes staring back at him, 'sorry,'

'Did the King of England just asking me to forgive him?' teased Catalina, kissing Henry gently on the lips.

'Don't get too use too it,' laughed Henry, taking hold of her left hand and kissing it, 'so what else was said?'

'I gave him our most heartfelt thanks and then said despite the short notice, I hoped that he and this beautiful city, would be able to join with us in celebrating our marriage,' Catalina chatted away, as if she was forgetting her regal status or the status of the man she was about to marry. She was too excited at that moment to mind about protocol. For despite her future stepson's attempts at embarrassing them, as she had spoken to the Mayor of York, she had remembered the reason of their being here. That soon she would be married to a man she loved and she could look forward to their future together and for that she was vibrant, forgetting the rest of their troubles...until her free hand caught hold of the much folded paper Henry had left on the desk and she let her eyes scan its contents, 'I said I hoped they could put together a display, which celebrated...which demonstrate our...us...I...you...,'

'Catalina?' but as Henry started to speak, he noticed her body go cold as he saw his future wife, holding the letter from the lady she was replacing, 'Catalina, sweetheart, you always knew,'

Reaching out to take back Elizabeth's letter, he expected it to fall from Catalina's hands into his. Instead he found that her small, delicate hand had a tight grip on the paper, which she refused to let go and rather than hand him back the letter, Catalina let the well travelled paper fall to the floor.

'Princess?'

'I...I...I am hu...tired,' stuttered Catalina, her face now near translucent and her crystal blue eyes trying to suppress tears as she saw the words of her predecessor dance before her eyes, 'I...I...need...will you...excuse me, Hen...your Highness,'

And with that, she fled, leaving Henry cursing under his breath as he reached for the fallen letter and quickly placed it back in its usual place of safety. If Henry was a man known for his humour he would have laugh ironically as Elizabeth's letters were not the only one stored in his Book of Hours-the two letters he possessed from Catalina, also lay within it's well thumbed pages.

* * *

'I was wondering,' said Henry, calmly entering the chamber, ignoring Catalina's ladies as he walked over to where she was sat in the window seat, looking out over the star covered grounds of the Archbishop's palace, 'what stones do you want in your crown?'

Briefly, Catalina took her eyes away from the night sky and turned to face her fiancé, who was looking at her without a hint of emotion. She had hoped that he would at least have signs of guilt on his face, that he had come to her full of regrets and saying sorry for hurting her, but no. He looked at her the way he always did people-which was worse in fact, for he looked at her as if she was just another member of his court.

'I am not a child,' she answered, turning back to the sky as she felt tears starting to swell in her eyes, 'I cannot be bought off with the promise of pretty things,'

'I didn't think you were,' replied Henry coolly, as he leaned against the wall, 'I was just trying to make conversation,'

'You have letters from me!' Catalina suddenly snapped back, surprising herself with how much anger fuelled her voice, for she had thought by looking away, she could control her emotions more, 'they may only be two but you have letters from me! You could have read them!'

'Catalina,' Henry still remained neutral as he spoke, taking in the young lady's manor. Her head was bent, causing strains of her auburn hair to come lose and hang round her face as she tried frantically not to look at him, thought he could see from the reflection in the glass that she was crying. As the window revealed the silent tears falling from her eyes, Henry silently sighed to himself as he once again remembered her youth-something which made him inwardly hate himself for not sharing with her, 'you have to see that life isn't black and white,'

'I know that now! Like I know the reasons why you truly want me as your wife!'

'Oh, I forgot that you always know what I think,' Henry muttered, coming nearer to the window, 'or at least you always think you do,'

'Do not mock me!' snapped Catalina, so fast that her words were heavy with her Spanish accent, 'I am not a child!'

'And I have never said you were,' replied Henry, trying to suppress any hint of emotion as he recalled all of Catalina's ladies were watch them with eager eyes over their sewing, 'you are all dismissed,'

'No, stay!' ordered Catalina, jumping to her feet as she snapped her fingers at both her Spanish and English ladies, halting them as they scrambled gracefully to their feet. She did not know why she was so bothered with the King giving orders to her ladies, but maybe that was where the problem lay-only some of these ladies were truly her's. Bar Lady Pole, all her English ladies, were those who served the former Queen and whilst most, like Catherine Bray, would smile and obey their new mistress' words, there were some under the guidance of Katherine Gordon, who were less than happy about now taking orders from the Dowager Princess of Wales, 'you are my ladies and I say you stay!'

'And as I pay for their upkeep,' Henry retorted raising his voice slightly as he once again waved his hand, 'I command them to leave,'

Catalina was silent for a moment, her teeth biting hard on her bottom limp, trying to suppress the urge to fight further, yet the fear of looking like a spoilt child, in front of her ladies, halted her urges.

'You may go!' she commanded, mirroring Henry in waving her hand to dismiss them. Quickly they all did as their master and mistress bid them, but Maria did turn to try and catch her oldest friend's eye, though Catalina did not break from her angry gaze at the King, 'well, then what am I?'

'What are you?' repeated Henry, as he watched the last of her ladies leave, 'if you need me to explain that, Princess, then I wonder what you learnt at the court of your mother,'

'My mother taught me well!' snapped Catalina, with an air of defiance and force, which caused her lose hair to flick wildly, before falling around her face, 'she taught me to always to be in control of my destiny, to fight whoever stands in my way and...'

'And who is stand in your way,' replied Henry, once again showing no emotion as he slipped past Catalina, blocking out her firer gaze as he went to sit in the window seat, 'you have Queen of England's jewels, you will soon have the marriage and the crown. What more do you want?'

Catalina was about to argue, but suddenly she felt her rage drain from her, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness, like she had never felt before. It was stronger than the pain she had felt on that morning when she had bide her mother goodbye for the final time or the emptiness she had felt, when she had returned to London from Wales in a litter draped in black. Those were nothing compared to the pain she now felt, which pulled so hard at her heart that she thought it might burst.

'I have been a fool,' she whispered, wrapping her arms tight around her waist as sank away from Henry and went to stand by the low burning fire as she suddenly felt a chill run through her, 'such a silly fool, but I see things clearly now,'

'I'm glad one of us does,' replied Henry, folding his arms across his chest as he watch the small figure of the Infanta, hover by the flames. For a moment, he thought of how beautiful she looked, but as he caught the look of distress on her face, he recalled that he had seen that look of hurt on a young woman's face before...and on that night twenty years ago, it had been him that had caused her pain, the same as it was tonight. But Henry, unlike that time long ago with his first love, could not understand how he had caused Catalina tears, 'so tell me,'

Sharply, Catalina turned to him, wanting to scream. Only that would go against everything she had ever been taught by her mother, for one thing Isabella had taught her from the moment Catalina could walk and talk, was that a Queen, regardless of the hell, which was breaking out around her, must always hide her pain underneath a veil of dignity. It was a lesson, Catalina had always taken to heart. When she had left Granada for the last time or when she had made that lonely trip back to London from Ludlow Castle, she had only shed her tears in private, except when Harry had caught her crying when he had came upon her in the chapel, but now, she was finding it hard to suppress them. If she cried openly now, he would know her weakness, which she could not afford to let him know. So before her tears started to roll, she bit her lip and went back to staring at the flames of fire.

'When I die, Your Highness,' she whispered, her eyes fixed hard on the faint reds and oranges, 'where will I lie?'

'Catalina, don't talk nonsense,' dismissed Henry with a small laugh as he continued to watch his fiancée, not wanting to hurt her, but determined not to play silly games-he was too old be playing, childish lovesick games, 'besides, I'm more likely to need a tomb before you,'

'It is not nonsense,' replied Catalina, still in a low voice, 'my sister, Isabella died giving birth to her only child-a boy-maybe God has the same fate in store for me,'

'Don't even joke about such things,' said Henry, his voice going into a low, grave whisper as his eyes saw images of the thing he most dreaded, dance before his eyes. Despite the hard, coldness he put on for the Court, Henry knew he did not possess the strength to sit by another bedside and watch another precious love, slip away from his life, 'if you only knew,'

'But it is possible, nevertheless,' answered Catalina, turning back to face Henry, having gained control of her tears. She knew her words seemed cruel, for she knew all too well the pain of losing someone you loved as they tried to give another life, but this was important to the whole stability of things to come. She was to be Katherine of Aragon, Queen of England, the lady who would help stabilise the new Tudor dynasty, but how did she know that was how she would be remembered? How did she not know that history might remember her as another Adeliza of Louvain or Berengaria of Navarre, forgotten Queens of this green land? How would she fulfil God's wish for her, if she let this happen? How could she live with herself?, 'and if it did, what will you do with my body, Your Highness? Will I lie a chapel of greatness, surrounded by both our badges and all the great symbolise of Kingship and England, waiting for you or will I lie alone in some corner of a far, flung Cathedral with a plaque that reads, "Here Lies Katherine, Once called Queen of England!"'

Without saying anything, Henry got to his feet and walked over to where his young bride was stood facing him, her blue eyes a mixture of fire and ice as she demanded to know her place in the world. She did not back down as Henry approached, but let her face remain, in that beautiful composure of determination, not even flinching at the low clicks of the King's ridding boots. Catalina still did not move as he came to a halt directly in front of her, just continued to stare into his eyes wanting to know what he was thinking. Longing to know what love he had for her...or at least what lust it was that drove him to want her as his wife-after all, it had not been a letter from her, which she had caught him reading.

'And whilst you are lying in some forgotten corner of England, were do I lie Catalina?' said Henry softly, attempting to place a hand of the side of her face, but as he gently graze her warm skin, she quickly turned away as if his touch had stung her, 'I'm not going to hurt you, Catalina,'

'But you already have, Henry,' she whispered, looking even further away as she felt a silent tear roll down her cheek, 'you have letters from me, Henry. You could have read one them?'

'You're so young,' replied Henry, deciding this time to gently place his hands on the side of her waist, so she would have to listen to his words and not escape him, 'you seem to forget I have a past, that goes back to before you were even born,'

'Yes, but now you have the future,' Catalina cried as she flashed a quick glance at Henry before turning away again, dreading that the future she thought they had planned were not based on the same ideas and beliefs, 'though now I do not think we have the same ideals,'

'Don't we?' smiled Henry with a little laugh, which caused Catalina to flinch, 'you want to be a wife and Queen and I'm in need of both. England needs heirs and we...well, I don't think I need to state anymore on that front,'

'You make it sound as though we are signing a treaty on trade,'

'In away, aren't we?'

'I thought you loved me!'' cried Catalina, her mask finally cracking as she pushed herself away from Henry, her hands on hips and her hair, usually so straight and graceful, flying even more wildly around her perfectly round face. It did not matter anymore, whether she played the perfect courtier or the passionate milk maid, Catalina was hurt but it was more than that. Suddenly she felt that as if her whole world was falling away from her. That all of a sudden, Catalina was stood there, her dreams of being a true, beloved Queen, where slipping from her grasps, for how could she be those thinks, if her name was hidden from the world. How could she be a great Queen, if she was hidden- her only purpose was to conceive a Duke of York, whose birth would signal the end to her use to the world. And how could she be a great Queen, if she was not a beloved and cherished wife, 'but now I see you do not,'

'And you know what I think, do you,' said Henry, this time with little emotions, though he again gained control of her waist, 'because I think you're very wrong, Princess,'

'Thats all I am to you, am I not!' shouted Catalina, with the same amount passion and anger as she had on the night she had barged into his bed chamber, 'a Princess! A Princess, who just happens to be in your Court at the moment you need a womb to give you a spare son!'

'If thats what you think, Princess, then you really don't know me,' replied Henry, his voice even more emotionless, though he kept a tight hold of her waist, refusing to let her go until all this nonsense had come to an end, 'do you really think I would marry you on such a lose whim?'

'You do not want a wife, not in the way that I want a husband! No, you just want one to replace the one you lost!'

The words escaped Catalina mouth, before she could stop them and they were cried in anger with tears falling from her eyes. It was as if at that one moment the months of trying to suppress her feelings about England's former Queen had suddenly boiled over and come from her thoughts and out of her mouth-causing a rush of self loathing to wash through her. She had thought herself better than that. After all, Queen Elizabeth had been so kind and caring towards her, even after Arthur had died, she had continued to treat the young widow as if she had been her own daughter and Catalina had shed many tears over the death of her new mother. More than that, it was clear by the look of anger that had washed over Henry's face, that her words had hit their intended target.

'Now you know that ain't true,' replied the King with as much restraint as he could manage, 'you know perfectly well, Princess, the reason I want you is cause you are not Elizabeth,'

'Yet, may God forgive me, she is still here!' cried Catalina, tears falling, 'every palace, every building, every document and every entertainment, I see her badge, her initials-there is no mention of me. Almost all my ladies were the Queen's former ladies, who look at me as if I am a child, allowed to play with fine dresses and jewels, as if they are waiting for me to slip and fall!'

'Then install some discipline. If you want to be Queen, then lead and show them you are in control, instead of weeping like some foolish girl,' snapped Henry, losing his restraints as he heard her criticisms. How could she feel that way? She knew the importance of building a united dynasty, of the how the notion of kingship was meant to pass swiftly from one incumbent to another without the hint of turmoil and more importantly, despite all Henry wanted for him and Catalina, he could never deny the place Elizabeth held in his heart. It may not have been as strong or as passionate as the one he now felt or even the one he had possessed in that other life among the Breton fields and a chateaus, but it had still been a love that had pushed Henry to the brink of despair, when she had departed this life. He could not simply consign her to the ancient mausoleum of dead Kings and Queens, even if he wanted too, 'you won't replace what is gone, but at least you could set your own example!'

'Yet how can I!' roared Catalina, feeling her cheeks wet with tears, 'if you do not love me!'

* * *

'Rhys!' bellowed Thomas, across the now nearly empty banqueting hall, as the figure of Rhys ap Thomas appeared in the doorway, peeling a riding glove off his left hand, 'late for the party again. We were being to think that you would never make it,'

'As I recall, my dear Thomas, I was not as late as some to first party we all shared,' Rhys replied in an extra thick Welsh accent, which he purposely put on every time he left the land of his fathers, and a sly grin as he handed his gloves and cape to a waiting page, 'besides, we cannot all be as loyal as old Oxford here,'

'Someone had too,' mutter Oxford, as he poured some wine and placed in front of the seat reserved for Rhys, 'if we had all had carried on, looking after our own interest this realm would never have any peace,'

'True, true, Oxford,' joined in Lord Stanley, shuffling a deck of cards, though his eyes paid no attention to the actions of his hands as they looked almost emotionless at the Earl, and his lips broke into a wiry smile, 'but if I had followed your path, I would not be sitting here with the amount of power and wealth that I have today-even if I have to let my wife have more power, than what was is good for her. Though of course, do not tell her that,'

Lord Stanley's comments caused roars of laughter around the table, but as he caught a glance at his oldest son, he saw that, not for the first time in his life, George was forcing a smile and laugh. Without breaking his own mirth, he signalled for a page to come forward and out of the sight of the others, he slipped the young boy a folded paper as he whispered-

'For the King's eyes only,'

'Speaking of wives,' said Rhys, slowing bringing the laughter to an end, 'I hear we have all been summoned north for a wedding,'

'You here right,' replied Oxford with a serious grin, 'his Highness and the Dowager Princess of Wales,'

'So the rumours are true,' returned Rhys, with a twinkle in his eye, as he had his suspicious confirmed, 'the King and the beautiful foreign Princess. A young girl tossed from one land to another, before finally being thrown into the arms of her young Prince. Well her second Prince and not that young,'

'But younger than you, my dear Rhys,' smiled Oxford, though his voice contained no hit of mirth, nor did his face as he meet Rhys rough red features. Neither, despite their intertwining lives, ever came close to understand each other, with Oxford's fierce loyalty being a complete mystery to the Hunchback's former servant, whilst Oxford could never comprehend how one could live their lives with such wavering conviction, 'and the Dowager Princess makes the King happy, which I think is something we can all agree is good for us and England,'

'Of course she makes him happy,' laughed Rhys as he took a gulp of wine, 'she is all but eighteen and from what I hear, even more beautiful now, than what she was when she first arrived on England's shores. Though I am surprised at the King's actions. I would have thought it too risky, to marry your daughter-in-law so soon after the heartbreak of February,'

'But like you said, she makes him happy,' replied Thomas, looking up from his cards with darkening eyes. True, Henry was only his brother by marriage and only rarely did Henry show signs of brotherly love, but Thomas felt closer to him than his natural brother, who was now sat next to him, his mouth twisting as he tried to suppress his thoughts, 'and that is all that matters,'

'I am not disputing that fact. As I said the Princess is eighteen, of course she makes him happy. I imagine that all the King has to do is just to think on her untouched body to lighten his mood,'

'Well as coarse as is that Rhys...' started Oxford, looking up from his cards, but Rhys did not give him a chance to finish.

'For someone who has been a soldier his whole life, dear Oxford, you are certainly easily oftened,'

'Am I?' smiled Oxford, for the first time showing it to be an expression of fun as he laid his cards on the table, causing the rest to groan as they realised the only man among them, who had never forsaken the House he had sworn to protect, had won their money, 'what I simply meant was there are better ways of expressing the benefits of our King having a young wife, than delving to the most basic element of common lust,'

'You think he is marrying her from her mind?' laughed George, throwing his cards down on the table, 'and not for that ready to pluck body she possesses?'

'If you took the chance to speak with the Princess,' interrupted Thomas, with a look of seriousness, which cause his brother to sneer as it always amazed him how Thomas could be so loyal to those who are not his family, 'you would see that the she possesses a mind that is just as stunning as her beauty,'

'Oh I have no doubt she has a mind,' replied George, slapping his younger brother on the back, enjoying seeing his ears start to turn red with anger. He enjoyed seeing Thomas full of rage ever since they were in the nursery, but in the years after that day in Lancashire it had only increase, especially as he had seen Thomas grow close to the regime, who had tried to force them to forsake George, 'but I also doubt that is what our King see's in her. After all, why would any self respecting man, especially a king, risk his reputation by marrying his daughter, if it's not for nights spent between some smooth, young thighs,'

'George, watch your tongue,' muttered Lord Stanley, lowering his eyes as he glared at his oldest son. He had been use to these occasion slips in the courtly mask of George over the years and at first he was prepared to ignore them, but things had change now. Because of William's foolish mistake, they could no longer rely on their proximity to the throne , not to mention their winning the day against the usurper. But it was not just William's vanity, which caused Lord Stanley trouble, it was the realisation that his stepson was not the man he once was. Things had changed dramatically in the last few years, the deaths of the Queen and their oldest son, had brought the King face to face with his own mortality and the fragility of his dynasty. True, he now behaved more like the man he had once been, when he was with his young princess, but he was now with the experience of not letting anything damage his life's work, 'personally I think the only thing we should fear is what will happen, if God forbid the King should become sick. I can see civil war brewing between my darling wife and the Princess over whose duty it is to nurse him well,'

Lord Stanley's comments with roars of laughter that echoed around the hall, with the exception of George, who just sucked on his bottom lip, like an angry child.

'Well,' laughed Rhys, reaching for his wine, 'I know whose side I would take-no offence, Lord Stanley,'

'None taken,' replied Lord Stanley, with a wolfish grin as he hide his true opinions on the matter, 'I daresay one would make a more pleasing sight standing our your bed than other,'

'I am glad you all find some mirth in our country's destruction,' interrupted George, 'I trust you are all aware that the Bible states that it is against the laws of God to marry and bed your daughter-in-law,'

'George!' snapped Thomas, jumping to his feet before his father had a chance to intervene, 'you know very well how wrong that statement is! Why can you not leave the two of them be,'

'Because I worry about my country,' said George very calmly, as he got to his feet but as he leaned towards his brother, he hissed in his ear, 'I'm surprised my dear brother, how you always taken the Princess' side. After all I know very well how much you want to get into the Royal breeches,'

Since he was a little boy, Thomas had always had trouble with his temper, it seeing him spend most of his early years stood in the corner of the nursery, with a red sore backside. Over the years and many arguments with his father, Thomas had learned to control the red mist, but hearing his brother hissed in ear caused his fists to override any sane thought his head, as he smashed his balled right hand into his brother's face.

'Oh for God sake,' groaned Lord Stanley as he got to his feet and grabbed hold of his eldest son, before he had a chance fight back.

'Here we go again,' sight Oxford to Rhys as they pulled away Thomas.

* * *

'Your Highness,' cried Catalina, as Henry pulled her down a narrow, spiral staircase, that was not particularly well lit, 'Henry, please we need to talk,'

'And we will,' replied Henry without looking back, 'but first I want you to meet someone,'

'At this time of night! Why can we not just meet whoever it is tomorrow, when we have discussed what has happened? Henry, I can compose myself for many situations, but after what I have learnt tonight, I need time before I can face anyone,' Catalina pleaded but Henry did not seem to notice as he continued to lead her down the stone stairs, which caused her even more pain and frustration, 'Henry, Your Highness, please look at me,'

By this time they had reached the end of the staircase and they found themselves in the very bottom of the Archbishop's house and staring down a dark corridor.

'Catalina you might be young enough to survive a fall down stone stairs,' said Henry, his voice and face both impassive and expressionless, 'but I'm not,'

'You are not old, Henry,' smiled Catalina, for a brief moment forgetting the ghost of Elizabeth of York, but as she wrapped her fingers around Henry's hand, the sight of a mourning ring on his little finger, brought an end to her smile, 'I still think we should talk, rather than meeting people,'

Henry watched as his fiancée face reflected first mirth, than sorrow in the faint touch light and as he watched her round eyes try to suppress tears, he felt a tug of guilt. Biting on his thin bottom lip, Henry did not regret what he had done, for nothing would make him regret his first marriage, but he lamented the sorrow of the young woman who made him feel alive again.

'Princess...Catalina,' he whispered, placing both hands gently on the side of her face and pulling her to him, thankful this time she did not flinch at his touch, 'it will all make sense, I swear,'

Part of Catalina wanted to argue, that they needed to discussed all that had occurred; for she knew it was too late for her to halt the wedding and besides, she loved Henry and wanted to marry him, despite the fact that he did not love her. But that did not stop her wanting to know what her husband-to-be truly thought about her. Yet, she sensed she would have no answers from Henry until she played his game...except Henry never played games.

With a sigh and the nodded of the head, Catalina signalled her blessing and the two of them continued down the corridor. Although it was dark in the long passage way, Catalina could see by the bright lights shining from under doors they were not alone. And it was outside one of these doors that the two of them stopped and Henry knocked loudly on the old oak, before pushing the door and gently ushering Catalina in.

* * *

It was only a small chamber and bear in terms of decoration, but it was very brightly lit and so hot, that as the heat hit her, Catalina swore she might faint-only Henry caught hold of her hand before she fell.

'Try and ignore the heat,' smiled Henry, tucking her arm under his as he placed his other arm around her waist, 'Joan's old bones are use to the wet country of Pembroke,'

'I thought you said Wales was sunny and beautiful,' replied Catalina with a smile, as she leaned against him as if this was earlier on in the evening and they were once again walking in the garden, 'that it was one of the most stunning signs created by God,'

'And it is, it just rains a lot,' laughed Henry, leading Catalina to the table in the middle of the chamber, which a couple were sat around, cards and coins laid before them as they exchanged joking words in a language that Catalina guessed to be Welsh, '_is that not right Joan, Wales is wet but beautiful,'_

'_My little Harri,' _cried the woman, whose small, oval face bore all the hallmarks of a life of hard work and a climate that was different from the heat of Granada, _'I was just saying that you had not visited me in such a long time. Come here, let me look at you...oh dear me, you are nearly skin and bones. I shall have to speak with your mother, she is clearly not taking care of you,'_

'_Oh Joan,'_ smiled Henry, kissing Joan on the cheek as he gently nudged Catalina forward, '_you never think I'm being taken care of. Joan, I would like you to meet Catalina,'_

Catalina smiled as she heard Henry utter her name and brought her to stand by his side, though she felt her nerves return as she felt the old woman look her up and down.

'_Catalina?' _she questioned, her accent so thick that Catalina feared that this lady knew no word of English. But as if sensing her thoughts, she suddenly spoke in English, 'oh Catalina! Poor little Arthur's wife,'

'Yes,' replied Catalina, her earlier sadness returning as she thought that was maybe how she was destined to be remembered, whilst her future husband's name would forever be intertwined with another, 'thank you,'

Mustering a smile, Catalina sat down in the chair offered to her by the man who had been playing cards with Joan. As he moved and returned her smile, Catalina noticed that the man was the King's Carver, David Owen and for the first time, she noticed that there was something about Henry in him-though without the appealing intensity.

'Yes,' answered Henry, as he came to stand by her side and placed a hand on her shoulder, 'but in a few days time, Catalina will be my wife,'

His voice did waver slightly, the way it generally did when Arthur was mentioned, though as he affirmed Catalina's soon to be status, he showed no sign of sadness and the smile continued to play on his face.

'Your wife!' exclaimed Joan, her lined face looking puzzled for a moment, before she leaned forward and catching Catalina unaware, took hold of her chin and let her green eyes examine the skin on the Spanish Princess' pale face, '_your wife! By the saints Harri, she is young enough to be your daughter,'_

'_Yes,_' answered Henry warmly as he kissed Catalina on the head, before kissing her gently on the lips, '_ but we are very happy and looking forward to our wedding...thats why I brought you here, Joan,'_

'_Well, I was wondering why you made me drag my old bones out of Wales to be amongst the Children of Rowena once again,'_

'_You should have known by now Joan, that I would never make you leave Wales unless it was for a good cause. I know how much you hate the English,'_

'_Now you know that is not true, Harri,' _continued Joan, titling her head to the side as she once again examined the young woman sitting before her_, '_I liked Elizabeth,'

Catalina tried not to flinch as she heard the name of the woman as she once regarded as friend, but was now a rival. She hated herself for feeling so. Catalina had called Elizabeth mother, but now, the thought of her made Catalina burn with the sin of envy as she found herself having to fight to prove that she would make a great and loving Queen, wife and mother.

'Harri,' smiled Joan, reaching out and taking hold of Catalina's hand, 'why don't you and David go and talk over there. I'm sure you have a lot to discuss with your uncle,'

'Uncle!' Catalina exclaimed in surprise as she turned around to look at Henry.

'I'll explain later,' smiled Henry, leaning in and stroking her cheek with his thumb as he kissed her on the lips, _'Joan, be gentle with her,'_

'_I will be gentle Harri, if you stop looking at the girl with such lust filled eyes,' _said Joan as she dismissed the King, in a way that remind Catalina, despite not understand the what was said, of Lady Margaret, _'but I can imagine that I'm just repeating what your mother has already said..._now my dear, I think we need to have a little talk,'

Trying to match Henry smile as he walked away to the window in conversation with the man, who Catalina had just learnt was his uncle, she turned her attention to Joan, who despite her many years, held a very tight grip on her hand.

'Tell me and be truthful,' whispered Joan, leaning in so that Henry could not hear, 'you and Harri have not gone for a roll in the hay?'

'Roll in the hay?' repeated Catalina slowly, not understanding Joan's words, 'I am afraid I do not understand,'

'Oh,' replied Joan, slightly taken aback, finding her usual blunt style was not going to work in this situation, 'well lets see, have you and Harri...shared a bed?'

'No,' Catalina gasped in horror at such a suggestion and knocking the older woman's hand away. Suddenly, Isabella's daughter, remembered who she was and glared at Joan, a woman who she still had no idea who she was or what right she had to imply such things, 'how dare you imply such a dishonourable notion,'

'I dare, my dear, because when you have spent the first few years of someone's life, washing then and changing them, drying their tears and forcing them to stand in the corner when you caught them stealing sweetmeats from the kitchens, you earn some rights' answered Joan, still wearing a smile, though it had altered slightly into a no nonsense grin that once again reminded Catalina slightly of Lady Margaret, 'and despite our differences, I still want to know that Harri won't get hurt and you seem a clever girl, you must know how things look. You are young and Harri isn't so and he's grieving and when Harri mourns, he turns his back on world and it takes something and someone very special to bring him back,'

'You think I am going to hurt him?' said Catalina, still with an air of defiance as she faced the attitude that plagued the minds of some of her ladies-in-waiting, 'well, I am sorry to disappoint everyone, but I am not that way inclined,'

'Good!,' laughed Joan, once again clasping hold of Catalina's hand and squeezing it tight, 'now we must make sure that Harri doesn't hurt you. Ah, but I see he already has,'

As she said those words, Joan's voice suddenly altered from its laughing, almost singsong tone to a serious, sympathetic one, whilst her other hand, placed itself on Catalina's chin and studied her eyes. Feeling those green eyes stare into her own, Catalina felt as if her soul was being laid bare and examined by a near total stranger.

'I do not know what you mean,' Catalina lied, not wanting to show weakness.

'You can tell me the truth, my dear. There is nothing I have not heard before, but I think I can guess that Elizabeth has something to do with your tears,'

'I know jealousy is a sin and I hate myself for it, for Her Highness was so good and kind to me,' the Infanta started, before she realised that she was pouring her troubles out to a lady, who was still almost a stranger, 'I loved her, I still do but I...'

'You want Harri to yourself,' finished Joan for her, with a surprising sympatric smile as she tilted her heads towards the direction of Henry, who was stood still in conversion with his uncle, yet occasion throwing glances over at them with a sly corner grin, 'you know, I think you already do,'

Catalina sighed, not believing it to be true, but at the same time hating herself for feeling so selfish and wanting complete possession over something that was not truly her's. She wanted to be Henry's wife, she wanted to be mother of his children-not just of the ones she hoped that God would grant the two of them, but to Mary, Margaret and Harry too. Not to replace Elizabeth, but for them to look to her as a mother and for them all to make a family. Yet a family was meant to be united, not split by a ghost.

'I thought I did, I do not,' said Catalina, looking down at the floor, feeling as if that morning, when Henry had showed her off to the people of York, had been all an act, 'he wants a child. A son to show that the succession is secure and I am here...I am convenient,'

'I think your more than just a belly for a boy,' answered Joan, moving further in, in a away reminded Catalina of the way Henry could be with courtiers, 'I see the way my Harri looks at you...I saw the way he kissed you then. Does he kiss you that way in front of the court?'

'Yes,' replied Catalina with a little smile as her cheeks blushed, 'but only since the Pope gave us his blessing...we thought it was for the best,'

'Well it took him years before he kissed Elizabeth that way in front of even his closest courtiers,' smiled Joan, pulling Catalina further towards her and with her green eyes, signalled at her to look over towards the window, causing the young bride-to-be to blush further as she caught Henry looking upon her as his lips continued to talk with another, 'I think my dear, you have to understand that my poor Harri's childhood was very lonely at times. Poor Lord Edmund cold in the ground, whilst his son was still in his mother's belly. They took Lady Margaret away as soon as little Harri was in the cradle and poor Lord Jasper, no sooner had he kissed the boy goodnight, then he was having to flee for his life under the cover of darkness. You see, Harri never really had a family-not one that was his own and a true constant-until he married Elizabeth. Don't be too hard on him, if he looks back to the past sometimes, for believe me, it isn't cause he doesn't love you less-far from it in fact,'

* * *

'Who is Maud?' asked Catalina with a grin as she leaned against Henry. They were now back in the library waiting for Lady Margaret and Lord Stanley, as Henry want to know more about this conspiracy, which his step-father had just sent him in a note concerning, 'is it true you got so upset when you stood on her foot when you tried to dance with her, that you locked yourself in your chamber for the rest of the day?'

'There is a lot of stars out tonight,' said Henry plainly, staring out the window as he wrapped an arm around Catalina's waist, 'I believe that's northern star over there,'

'And that the next time you had to dance with her, you got so nervous you were ill,' teased Catalina, her fingers starting to play with the gold chain around Henry's neck, 'that...'

'I think maybe it was a mistake letting you meet Joan,' interrupted Henry with little laugh, catching hold of Catalina hand, 'and I'll warn you, repeat anything she says and I'll have you in the Tower,'

'Will you,' started Catalina with a grin, but as Henry kissed her hand, she returned to the serious thoughts of this evening. She had reconciled herself with Elizabeth and thinking that given Harry's protests and Margaret's upcoming departure, it was only natural that Henry would turn to past, even when looking forward to the future. Yet there was one thing she needed to be sure of, 'Henry, when we are married, it will just be just the two of us?'

'Catalina,' sighed Henry, letting his arms fall around her waist, 'I can't just forget Elizabeth. Maud was sweet but more like a sister, but Elizabeth...I can't forget Elizabeth,'

'I know you cannot,' whispered England's future Queen as she rested her head on the King of England's chest, 'I mean now, I mean there is no other waiting for you at night,'

'Princess, has no one ever told you can't have three people in a marriage,'

'I am serious, Henry,' said Catalina, looking up, 'I saw my father show his mistresses off around my poor mother. I saw her faced with having to see him proudly parade his bastards. I watched her trying to smile, when inside I knew she was crying,'

'I was being serious, Catalina' said Henry, tightening his hold on her waist as he met her gaze without flinching, 'there is no one else and there never will be another. It is and will always be just you, me and the children-yours and mine, Margaret, Harry and Mary-no one else. I will not deny Elizabeth, but she is all there ever was. Its just you, Catalina, just you and I would be a fool to wreak that. Besides, above all else, I am no Plantagenet King,'

'Just me and you,' smiled Catalina, finally feeling a sense of relief as she moved to place her lips on top of Henry's.

'Just me and you,' replied Henry, before leaning in to kiss her, but as their lips met he thought for a moment as he saw Catalina's blue eyes looking up at him, that he should reveal all to her about what happened Brittany. Tell her about Katarin and the son she gave him, after all they were still part of him and Catalina suddenly wanted to know everything about his past. But suddenly, Henry thought he could hear Katarin's crying and begging him not to go and her tears brought he back to the inn in Harfleur, the night saying goodbye to her and their young son. Roland was not yet two, but he was already growing big and strong, and throughout he smiled and gurgled his sweet baby laugh, completely unaware that this would be the last time his father would hold him. In the background stood Katarin's husband, Loic, his face completely neutral. Henry had often felt sorry for the poor man, but at that moment he paid no attention to him, as all he focused on was his child and its crying mother. Somewhere in his mind, Henry thought he could hear Katarin's cries as if she was still with him, begging him not to leave them and then he remembered how, if Jasper had not appeared at that moment, he would have defied everyone, including his mother, to be with his love and their child, 'just me and you,'

'That is all I ask, Your Highness,' whispered Catalina, and finally the two of them kissed, in the same passionate manner as they had done earlier in the garden that evening; and in the same way that they were disturbed earlier that day, they again found themselves interrupted.

'Henry,' remarked Lady Margaret sternly as she entered the chamber in her usual commanding manner with her husband in toe, 'if your hands reaches any further down that girl's back, King or not, I will have them cut off,'

'Yes mother,' muttered Henry, slightly embarrassed as he moved away from Catalina but continued to hold her hand, though as he saw his step-father his mood altered back to its normal mode, 'Father, I thought you weren't joining us till tomorrow,'

'That was the plan, Your Highness, but your mother had other ideas,' replied Lord Stanley, with that wide, conspirators grin of his, 'and by the sounds of it, it was a good thing I came when did,'

Henry tried to smile at his step-father, but it always proved difficult to try and create a father and son relationship much later on in life, especially as despite the Stanleys coming to his aid that fateful day, events of the past few years had made Henry doubt that there was much family loyalty involved.

'I'm sure,' nodded Henry thoughtfully, 'now how reliable is your source?'

'Very, I heard it with my own ears,' returned Lord Stanley, wanting to keep George out of any discussion-he had already lost a brother and he was not about to lose a son too. But as the years had gone by and George had grown more bitter along the way, refusing to believe that his father had done what was best for his son at Bosworth, Lord Stanley had found that he was losing his influence over his oldest son, 'they plan to denounce both you and the Princess tomorrow at the Minster, on the grounds that your relationship is against the laws of God,'

'But they cannot do that,' Catalina interrupted with a smile cry, 'His Holiness gave us a dispensation and his blessing,'

'Well actually the can, Princess. Not everyone thinks the way you do,' replied Lady Margaret, approaching the younger woman and offering her arm, 'now you are tired, I think it is time we got you to bed,'

'But I am not tied,' said the future Queen, ignoring the offered hand and tightening her grip on Henry, 'besides as it effects His Highness, then it also effects me, so I feel I should stay,'

'These things are for Kings to solve, my dear,' smiled Lady Margaret, trying to hide her frustrations, 'I think...'

'I think, mother,' Henry overruled, knowing that he could expected to suffer for it later, especially as he never enjoyed contradicting his mother as he know more than most, that the majority of the time she was right. However on this occasion he had to disagree, as he not only he believed the key to winning this lay with Catalina, but after everything that had passed, he had come to the conclusion that he could not be the King he once was, without Catalina at his side, 'Catalina should stay. After all I think my future wife could be the one to calm the approaching storm,'

* * *

In a lonely, dark and cold corridor, Katarin collapsed in a heap, her painful sobs echoing around the secret passage way, that one of the Archbishop's servants had shown her. Still dressed in Catalina's wedding dress, she cried into its silver silk, cursing its intended wearer as she did.

That little slut had taken her love away from her and their son. But more than that, that heifer, with her line free face and firm breasts, had hypnotized Harri into completely forgetting them. Katarin had heard them in the library talking, that selfish bitch wanting all her lover's attention to be on her and only her. She, in that whining voice of her's, had begged Harri for reassurances that he was no one elses but her's, like the fool all men turned into, when they that noticed by some young strumpet bating their eyelashes at them, Harri had denied every ounce of his past. Sometimes, over the past couple of months, Katarin had wondered which one she hated most-Harri or his harlot, but now she had her answer.

Harri, despite all outward appearance, was not as strong as he thought himself to be. He constantly allowed himself to be dominated by those around him. First his uncle and mother, despite the English Channel lying between them-and now this Spanish creature, with her youthful body, which she flaunted at every opportunity. She had Harri completely under her spell, wriggling her hips as she whispered in his ear promises of what she would do for him in the bed chamber, once she had that ring on her finger-and Katarin could not compete with that. Harri still loved her, Katarin could see that now, but that little whore had seduced him away, making him forget the past. Even if Katarin revealed herself to Harri now, it would do no good. Harri was bewitched by that harlot's youth and Katarin had lost her youth in Brittany.

'That bitch!' sobbed Katarin, pulling at the selves of the wedding dress with such force that they soon ripped away from the bodice. Hearing the rips, Katarin felt a release from the pain her heart was feeling, therefore her hands then went frantic, pulling at every ounce of silk. Pearls and crystals scattered all over the floor as Katarin tore the bodice in two, causing her breast to tumble out and reveal themselves to the cold air. But she had little thought for her modesty, as her mind became possessed by releasing herself by tearing the whore's dress to shreds, as she moved down the dress and attacked the skirts with just as much fever. Finally, with the sleeves and bodice in pieces and the skirts torn to such an extent, that no amount of stitches could save it, Katarin again collapsed in a heap, a dishevelled mess, but her mind was anything but. Suddenly she found she could think clearly, suddenly she found she had a plan.

'A wedding day to remember,' she laughed coldly, rolling around in torn silk and fallen jewels, 'a wedding day to remember for that bitch,'


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry for taking so long to update-have been having a few problems balancing university, work and life-hopefully I have finally found a solution. Also sorry that this chapter is very short, but I hope it in some way makes up for my poor time keeping. **

**Big thank you to everyone –you are all so amazing- and hope you have all had a happy Christmas and have a great New Year.**

_'Katarin!'_ laughed Henry, as he chased her across the Breton fields, _'Katarin, give it back!'_  
_'You'll have to catch me first!_' she giggled, turning back briefly to face Henry as she taunted him with the hat she had stolen off of him, before once again turning to run with a shriek as her love nearly caught her, _'oh Harri, you'll have to do better than that! I thought you were a brave, heroic knight, but you can't even catch a sweet, little maiden!'  
'Ha!'_ smiled Henry, stopping for a moment as he rested his hands on his hips, trying to catch his breath, _'we will see about that!'_  
And once again he gave chase, continuing to laugh as he ran after the only thing that gave his life meaning. He was a long way from home and he missed his mother, not to mention that once again, the Duke had stopped him from see his uncle Jasper-if it had not been for Katarin's constant presence, Henry did not know where he would be. She was so sweet and kind, all she had to do was smile at him and Henry forgot got all his troubles… and Katarin had the most stunning smile, her red lips looked beautiful and sympatric all at once as did her coal black eyes. She was kind and caring too. Henry knew some of the servants were spreading rumours about them and he had seen the evil looks her mother gave him since her daughter had forsaken the secure and sensible Judoc for the penniless exile, but that did not stop Katarin sneaking into his chamber at night to keep him company during the dark hours. They never did anything, they would both just lie under the warm covers of Henry's bed, talking until they fell asleep in each other's arms. Though despite the innocent of their actions, they would constantly speak to their future together- the home they would make with the many babies they would have.  
_'Got you,'_ laughed Henry, as he grabbed Katarin's slim waist and the two of them tumbled on to the grass, Katarin throwing his hat away as they fell, but Henry did not go after it. Instead the two continued to play fight, until Henry pinned her down, taking in the beauty of her face and the heaviness of her breath, that caused her breasts to heave_, 'I love you, Katarin,'_  
_'I love you too, Harri,'_ she smiled as Henry freed both her hands and she wrapped them around him , bring their lips together_, 'I love you too,'_

* * *

'Now remember,' said Henry, steadying Catalina's hands as they held on to the crossbow, 'keep your arms straight,'  
'They are straight,' replied Catalina with a little laugh, as despite the heaviness of the wood and the weight of her bright pink, flowing sleeves of her dress, she keep trying to keep her arms perfectly straight, 'but it is heavy,'  
'Then let me take the weight,' Henry laughed as he moved his hands , so he had more of a hold on the crossbow, placing his hands on top of Catalina's, his rough fingers resting in the groves between Catalina's delicate ones, 'you just watch the target as your eyes are younger than mine,'  
'Ah but your eyes are more experienced,' smiled Catalina, looking back over her shoulder and up at Henry with a twinkle in her eye, 'do you like my dress, Your Highness? Does your future Queen look like a true English rose for her King?'  
Henry paused for a moment before commenting and letting his eyes study the soon to be Queen of England, although it took all his strength to break away from her blue eyes that she seemed to be making wider to emphasis her point. Although he had already spent an hour with her in the gardens of Bishopthrope, his eyes, which he had spent years training to seek out the secrets of men, were never tired of finding an excuse to examine Catalina. With a pleasing eye then, he examined first Catalina's auburn hair, which had been braided into a long plait and pinned intricately on to her head with pink roses weaved into its strands, before inspecting the equally pink floating dress.  
'You couldn't find any red roses?' grinned Henry, teasing her as he hide his true thoughts on the beautiful princess, who was smiling back at him.  
'Despite all Your Highness hard work, red roses still do not seem to grow here,' Catalina teased in a laughing manner, 'and besides, pink roses sit better with my dress,'  
She did not know what had caused her playful mood that morning. Perhaps it was the late August heat, which was prickling her skin or maybe feeling Henry's body so close to hers, especially as Lady Margaret had quickly separated the two of them the previous evening before they had had a chance to bid each other goodnight. Or perhaps it was the fact that the events of last night had gone some way to putting to bed some of her fears...or perhaps it was a mixed of all three.  
With a laugh, Henry once again took in the sight of young fiancée, in her dressed that oozed the notion of her being most perfect and uncorrupted English rose. With her pink underskirts and her white dress, bodice and sleeves, all of which were decorated with roses of the same pink and in a manner that made them seem as though they were growing around her, as if she was the Virgin Mary herself. With a thin smile, Henry reflected on how perfectly beautiful she was, but as his eyes fell on her shoulders, on which her dress seemed to just be hanging off, revealing her graceful neck, which as she titled her head to the side, seem to be crying out for attention-causing Henry's throat to go dry. Their bodies were so close, their fingers neatly intertwined and in the summer heat, Henry could not help but imagine that it was just the two of them and he could slip the dress off of her shoulders and they could enjoy each other on the grass. Sometimes, in his darkest moments, he hated himself for thinking such carnal thoughts about a lady young enough to be his child, yet once he managed to break free of the darkness, Henry found he could enjoy playful moment like these and that the spirit, which he thought had died in February, had returned to him. However, it was not just the reawakening of certain senses, which caused Henry joy; for being with Catalina, Henry found that he once again had the spirit of the same man, who had landed in Milford Haven as the exiled Prince wanting to liberate his nation.  
'Are you aware,' whispered Henry, as he let one of his hands fall away from the crossbow and wrap itself around Catalina's slim waist, 'by this time next week, we'll have been married for four days,'  
As Catalina giggled and moved her head to kiss her fiancé, she ignored the few murmurs and tuts, which came from a few of her ladies-in-waiting, who were sat on the grass nearby.  
'I am surprised that My Lady the King's Mother has not said anything,' hissed Katherine Gordon, to Catherine Bray as they both sat on a rug sewing, 'that girl is making the poor King look like a fool,'  
'I think the only one looking the fool,' replied Lady Bray, in the dry manner, which she had learnt from her former mistress, Lady Margaret, 'is the one who lets bitterness cloud their eyes,'  
'It is not bitterness, to be heartbroken at the sight of an usurper in the family,' said Katherine Gordon firmly, though soon regretting her words as she saw Lady Bray trying desperately to suppress a grin. Yet despite the few ripples of laughter that came from the remaining Spanish ladies of Catalina and a couple of the English, Catherine Bray was well aware that there were many ladies, who still shared Katherine Gordon views.  
They were not the only ones, for Harry was also in the gardens practicing archery with Charles and Mary. Despite usually being a good shot, Harry found that all his arrows were either bouncing off of or missing the target as his eyes were constantly distracted by the sight of his father openly groping at the body of Harry's 'love,' as he whispered corrupting words in her innocent ears.

'That poor maiden,' he muttered through gritted teeth as he once again tried to hit the centre circle, only the sight of his father forcing his lips on to Catalina's, caused his arrow to complete missed the target, 'she must die inside every time she is forced kiss that old man,'  
Charles was silent as he stepped up with his bow, viewing the sight of the King and the Dowager Princess very differently, for the way he saw it, the Spanish Princess seem to be very much enjoying and even instigating her encounters with the King. He understood his friend's hurt, after all, all Harry could speak of since her arrival was the striking Infanta and how pretty she was, how sweet and kind...how Arthur did not deserve her...how he could not wait to marry her...how it made him sick seeing his father fumble her sweet paps. Charles could understand his friend's hurt, but indulging Harry only went so far and Prince of Wales or not, he could not keep pretending that the King was forcing himself on his future bride.  
'She must be lying in bed at night, sick to her stomach with fear over what that old man is soon going to force her to do,' Harry continued as Charles aimed his arrow, 'do you not think, Charles?'  
'I think,' Charles sighed as his arrow hit the target and deciding that it was best to attempt the truth with his friend, especially as he heard the Dowager Princess giggle as the King whispered something in her ear, 'that maybe Her Highness enjoys the King's attentions,'  
'Enjoy!' chocked Harry, not believing his friend's words, 'enjoy! How can she like the attentions of that old man?! Why would my father appeal to her young appetites?!'  
Charles knew the answers, but once again kept quiet as he tried to decide on the words. It was true, that if the Infanta appealed to his tastes, he too would be mystified at witnessing her wasting her youth on a man, who could easily be her father, but as there was no hindrance, he could clearly the attraction. The King might not have been the young handsome man, that he had been in 1485, yet the romantic notions he had then embodied were still alive, despite coldness that could still come off him. He was still regarded as the long lost Prince, who had returned from the long years of exile to reclaim his inheritance and unite the bitter feuds of past century. Perhaps, the cracks would occasional show, especially given that his white rose was dead, but when the King had the drive and passion, he was still the fulfiller of prophecies and certainly still in possession of the physical presence to match-and for a Princess, with the breeding of the Infanta, the King would certainly be a more appealing choice than the young Prince. Not that Charles wanted to seem disloyal to his friend, but it would be wrong to deny that young Harry was missing certain aspects that would probably appeal to the Dowager Princess' kingly taste.  
'I just think, that maybe Her Highness is slightly more at ease with King, than you would like to believe,'  
'I know what I see,' stomped Harry, like a small impatient child, 'and that is of a young maiden being constantly manhandled by an old man and you should remember your place Charles,'  
'Yes, Your Highness' mumbled Charles, as his eyes once again looked over at the 'abused maiden' and 'ogre,' seeing how the Princess once again seemed to be enjoying the kiss from the King.  
'Margaret says the same as Charles,' chirped Mary as she trotted forward with her little practice bow.  
'What do I say, Mary?' said Margaret in a cold manner that she had learnt from her father. She had separated herself from her brother and sister, spending all her time with the ladies that were to accompany her to Scotland, but as she had heard her name mentioned by her sister, she had had the urge to return to her siblings.  
'That Madre likes kissing father,' she smiled as she watched her arrow hit the centre circle, 'and I think so too, as they are always kissing, but I do not mind as they are going to be married soon. I cannot wait until they get married!'  
'Mary,' asked Margaret, letting emotions start to creep into her voice as she wanted an answer to a question that had been nagging at her mind, since Mary had been told of their father's new love, 'do you only want father and Catalina to get married, because father brings you lots of presents when he visits you now?'  
'No, though I do love them,' giggled the young Princess, looking down at her pretty pale blue dress, that her father had brought for her with the aid of Catalina's advice, 'I want them to marry because father is smiling again and when he smiles, he comes and sees me. He asks me about my studies, he listens to me play my music, he comes riding with me and Madre and he comes with her to kiss me goodnight. Besides on the days when we do not have to eat in front everyone like animals, he comes with Madre and eats with us. I know you and Harry do not like it, but since Madre became Madre, it is as if we are starting to be a family again!'  
Harry snorted at his young sister's words and waited for Margaret to join in, only she was silent as she reflected on Mary's words. It was true that since Catalina had become their stepmother-to-be, their father had ceased locking himself away and he was spending time with them, even if Margaret now had to watch another woman sitting in her mother's place and holding her father's hand. But he was smiling again, even knowing that Margaret and Harry were not pleased with his choice, there was no denying that her father was happy again, as he now was in the gardens of the Archbishop's palace with Catalina. Perhaps there was something in their coupling-not that Margaret truly cared of course.  
'I know, Your Highness,' smiled Catalina as she pulled away from their kiss, 'and then in three weeks we will be in Woodstock. Just me and you,'  
'Catalina,' gasped Henry, finding it difficult to breath as the thought of the two of them enjoying lazy days in his secured manor house almost caused his knees to buckle. She looked so innocent and Henry had to keep reminding himself that she was completely innocent and that when the time came, when they were finally left alone together in the bed chamber, he would have to take things slow with her and be extremely gentle, 'shall we finally shot this arrow,'  
Their hands moved back into position and finally, Catalina delicate fingers with the help of Henry's released the arrow, which hit the centre circle of the target.  
'See,' laughed Catalina, letting go of the crossbow as she turned around in Henry's arms, 'we make a good pair,'

'Well,' said Lord Strange, his voice laced with sarcasm as he escorted Brother Marcus to his audience with the King, 'what do you think?'  
'It looks like a father with an overindulged daughter,' muttered Brother Marcus, as he watched the young Princess excitedly hug her father-in-law, 'they are dancing with the devil,'  
'Especially as no father should kiss his daughter in such manner,' echoed the other man from the previous evening, who was a scribe, who went by the name of John, watching as the King handed the crossbow to a servant, before returning to the Princess and kissing her with some passion on the lips, 'our dear Queen not long lying dead in cold ground and yet the King is already going to that young strumpet's hot bed!'  
'As much as I appreciate your passion, John,' said Lord Strange, 'our King is not foolish enough to risk getting his little Princess with child before he has got a ring on her finger,'  
'Is everything well, Lord Strange,' interrupted the Earl of Oxford, appearing as if from nowhere with Lord Stanley at his side, who looked at his son with examining eyes.  
'Yes, your grace,' replied Lord Strange with a nod, ' just escorting Brother Marcus to see the King,'  
'Mmm,' uttered the Earl of Oxford as Lord Stanley just nodded as the King with the Dowager Princess of Wale holding on to his arm, joined the group, 'Your Highnesses,'  
'My dear Oxford and father,' grinned Henry, as Catalina smiled and nodded, 'and my dear brother, George,'  
George looked at his step-brother and smiled, pretending the way Henry was doing, that there was some true family unity there and that there was love at its core. He gazed briefly at his future sister-in-law, who was smiling beautiful as her delicate fingers held on to the King's arm and she rested her head against him. George had to admit his brother looked happy with his future wife and she with him, despite the age between them, but it made no differences to George. His family had been willing to sacrifice him for Henry's sake, so why should he be willing to let Henry have his happiness with his child bride?  
'I brought Brother Marcus to see you brother,' smiled George, with a small bow, before joining his father, Oxford and John in withdrawing to different parts of the garden.  
'Your Highnesses,' said Bother Marcus, trying to hide his disgust at the Royal couple and their shows of affection towards each other, 'it is an honour to be chosen to give the sermon this evening, but am wondering why you have asked to see me,'  
'I am so sorry, Brother Marcus,' replied Catalina, letting go of the King's arm and coming to stand beside the young preacher, 'but you must forgive me, for it was all my doing,'  
'Oh,' answered the young monk, finding his defiant stance quickly falling away with the kind words of the sweet Princess, who looked the perfect image of the Madonna with her crown of roses, 'it is no trouble Your Highness, I just was not expecting...'  
'You'll have to excuse the Princess,' said Henry very solemnly and in a tone that made him the embodiment of a king to be dreaded, 'she is simply looking forward to our wedding,'  
'It is understandable,' answered Brother Marcus, very carefully as he found he had the imposing King and the youthful Princess both staring at him, 'wedding are most special and more importantly the holiest of occasions,'  
Brother Marcus wanted to say more. In his mind he had all planned, how he was going to denounce the Royal couple and in turn help them see the error of their ways. Yet now, as he was stood in between the scowling of the King and sugar sweet smile of the Princess, his youthful idealism and conviction quickly deserted him.  
'And our wedding is going to be both,' beamed Catalina, widening her round blue eyes, in a way that ate at the monk and caused Henry to muster all his strength so that his knees did not buckle, 'after all His Highness and I have been through, we are both determined that our wedding will be a true celebration of our love and the blessings God have bestowed upon us,'  
'Your Highness,' said Brother Marcus, gulping as he tried to find some strength, 'I sorry to disappoint...'  
'What do you mean disappoint?' asked Henry, raising an eyebrow, 'I sincerely hope you are not going to disappoint my bride,'  
'Oh you are still giving sermon tonight?' cried Catalina, putting a hand instinctively to her mouth, 'we have been so looking forward to tonight, especially as our wedding is so soon and the Mayor was only last night saying how you are the best preacher this city has ever witnessed. I was so hoping you would deliver sermon celebrating our love,'  
'I...I...,'  
'Madre,' chirped little Mary, running excitingly up to her soon to be stepmother, followed by a tall, lackey man, on whose arm was perched a sliver grey falcon, 'come and watch me with Isolde!,'  
'Oh,' replied Catalina, not expecting her young future stepdaughter's appearance, but not wanting to upset the sweet child, took a gentle hold of her hand and smiled, 'of course, my little Maria, if I have Your Highness' permission?'  
'Of course, sweetheart,' smiled Henry in a genuine show of affection, that Catalina instantly recognised, as she stooped down in a brief curtsey, before she and Mary walked off to a separate part of the garden. For a moment, Henry continued to watch his bride and youngest daughter, enjoying hearing little Mary's laughter, remembering there was once a time when he did not think he would ever enjoy hearing her innocent giggles again, 'I know what people say,'  
'Pardon, Your Highness,' chocked Brother Marcus, turning to face the King, only he found it impossible to even attempt so, even briefly.  
'That the union between myself and the Dowager Princess of Wales is most unholy,' Henry said, in his usual commanding way as watched Catalina with his daughter, 'such a pretty sight,'  
'No...yes...,' stuttered Brother Marcus, not really sure what he was answering, 'I am sorry, Your Highness, but I am not sure I really follow,'  
'I was merely stating,' continued Henry, his voice cold, 'that there are some who view mine and the Princess' relationship as wrong and in line with Leviticus that a man shall not uncover his daughter-in-laws nakedness...well, you know the quote better than I,'  
'Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy daughter in law: because she is thy son's wife, neither shalt thou discover her shame,' mumbled Bother Marcus , remembering the opening lines of the sermon he had planned for this evening, 'it is a great sin,'  
'Is it?' replied Henry, with his mouth fixed in neutral, 'and there was me thinking that God made that statement as a sign of his blessing. Now tell me, Bother Marcus, do you consider me and the Dowager Princess are indulging in such sin?'

Brother Marcus found himself unable to reply as the cold stare of the King and the innocent laughter of the young Princess bore hard in his mind. The man, who had that morning been prepared to denounce the King and his concubine, now he had no conviction left in him. He expected to find Jezebel, but instead he found a sweet young lady, doting on her stepdaughter and obeying her husband's wishes-it was difficult to find fault with this domestic scene.

'I…'

'Before you answer,' interrupted Henry, gesturing for the man instructing Mary with her falcon to come forward, 'I would just like to remind you, that regardless of what some think, I am a very merciful man and can reward handsomely those are loyal to me and my cause…just ask the dear Archbishop or perhaps…ah Lambert, good to see that you are looking so well and I must congratulate you, on the wonderful progress you have made with the Princess and Isolde,'

'Thank you, Your Highness,' replied Lambert Simnel, still with a nervous edge after all these years when he was faced with the man other had wanted to him to help overthrow, 'it has been a pleasure,'

'Good, good,' grinned the King, before dismissing him, 'see Brother Marcus, I do not have a heart of stone and can be a very caring and pleasant man, but like all Kings, one cannot be such things all the time. For one would never hold the throne as long if they remained constantly sweet-one needs to be feared to survive in this world and the way to be feared is to make sure you let your people know that anyone who fails to serve their King will be dealt with severely and in extreme case, brutality. Ah, sweetheart,'

Henry's grin turned into a warm smile as Catalina reproached them, offering her husband-to-be a curtsey before taking hold of his offered arm.

'I am sorry for my brief absence, Brother Marcus,' said Catalina, still with her beautiful smile on her face, 'please forgive me,'

'There…there is nothing to forgive,' stuttered Brother Marcus, not able to meet the Infanta's eyes, especially as he sensed that beautiful smile on her face, 'your attention to your step-daughter is highly commendable,'

'I am flattered and honoured,' smiled Catalina as she leaned against her fiancé, 'the Princess is such a sweet but sensitive child, I feel God has sent me here to take special care of her, not to mention the Prince of Wales and the Princess Margaret and of course, His Highness. You see someone once told me that to be a great Queen, one must also be a great wife and mother…and I intend to be not only the greatest of queens but the greatest of wives and mothers also,'

'I…I… I'm sure you will, Your Highness,' said Brother Marcus, flustered as he tried again to look at the Dowager Princess.

'Of course Her Highness will be,' returned Henry, as he dismissed the preacher, 'now you may go and we will look forward to hearing your sermon later,'

'Y…yes, Your Highnes…Your Highnesses,' stuttered Brother Marcus, before he quickly made his exit from the gardens as fast as his flustered body would let him.

'That was rather easy,' said Henry out of the side of his mouth as he let go of Catalina's hand and replaced his arm around her waist, 'that has to be the fastest I have ever seen a man surrender,'

'You clearly have a way with words,' smiled Catalina, resting her head against Henry, 'Your Highness,'

'Well as true as that may be,' laughed Henry, turning towards Catalina and placing his other hand on the side of her warm face, 'I think my beautiful, sweet and virtuous bride might have help sway the man's opinions. Even men of God are susceptible to beautiful woman,'

'I just pray that Kings are just as susceptible,' whispered Catalina with a smile as she placed her arms around the King's neck and leaned forward, putting her lips gently on top of his.

'Just don't expect me to ever give you sole power,' muttered Henry, before kissing her. But as they started to kiss with more passionately, out of the corner of his eye, Henry spied his mother in the garden talking with his stepfather and Thomas. Wanting to avoid the interruptions that his mother had brought to their attempts to gain some intimate time alone over the past few days, Henry gently pulled Catalina away, to slightly further down the garden, so that they were now shielded by archway of roses.

'Henry,' laughed Catalina, as she leaned back against a wall of pink roses, putting her arms once again around Henry, 'we will get into trouble,'

'I am King,' whispered Henry, placing a hand on the side of her face, his thumb stroking her delicate skin, as his lips rested on top of her's, 'and my opinion is all that matters….just don't tell mother,'


	17. Chapter 17

**Big thank you to everyone for reading this story a****nd a super big thank you to Vader's Mistress for all your support and to Ameerah al-Azim for your lovely review.**

**PS- have borrowed Flake from the Shadow of the Tower-hope noone minds.**

**Hope you all enjoy.**

'Does anyone know what we are doing here?' said Cecily, Viscountess Wells, as she looked around the welcoming chamber of the Infanta's rooms.

'Is it not obvious, my dear sister,' smiled Anne, Countess of Surrey, sitting down on some finely stitched pillows as she played with her departed sister Elizabeth's favourite pet dog, Flake, 'we are here for a wedding,'

'I understand that, sister. All the court and city can talk about is the wedding,' dismissed Cecily, rather sharply, 'but what I do not understand is why all of us, including poor Bridget, have been summoned here! The King has made it very clear that he no longer sees us as one family!'

'Now you know that's not fair,' replied Anne, still with a smile as she fed Flake some biscuits as Cecily scowled on.

'I agree,' joined in the third surviving York sister, Catherine, Countess of Devon as she ran her fingers over a tapestry telling the story of Esther, 'of course the King still sees us as family. He wants the world to see that we are all united behind his new marriage. Besides, sister, after your little stunt with your new husband, I would have thought you would be over the moon that the King had invited you,'

'Too the wedding, maybe,' admitted Cecily, who was relieved that Lady Margaret's attempts to persuade the King to loosen his punishment on her for marrying Square Thomas Kyme had finally bore some fruit. Not that she regretted her decision to marry for love rather than money, but she did regret having to forfeit land, which was rightfully her's, 'but not to this little gathering, where I am expected to be nice and pay homage to her,'

'That's not very nice,' replied Catherine with a sigh.

'I agree that is not very nice,' echoed Anne, 'and what has she done to bring about this change of heart, Cecily? I thought you liked the Dowager Princess?'

'I did,' returned Cecily without even having to think of an answer, 'but this was before she showed her true colours,'

'Her true colours!' said Anne, without a hint of mirth, 'as far as I can see the Dowager Princess has always held herself up as a true picture of virtue,'

'Virtue! You call what she has done virtuous?!'

'Granted, they should have waited a few months,' admitted Anne, but refusing to agree to her sister's opinion, 'but then you still would have found some reason to be angry with her. Besides she makes the King happy,'

'Yes, but how long has been making the King happy?' answered Cecily, trying not to raise her voice in case one of Catalina's ladies-in-waiting overheard as they prepared the table, 'you were not there, Anne, you did not see the way she hugged and kissed the King when he presented her with those jewels when she first arrived. Back then I put it down to a young girl alone on a foreign shore in search of a father, but now I am not so sure and I am not sure about the King either!'

'Now all the things our King maybe,' interrupted Catherine, 'a lecher is not one of them,'

'And yet,' Bridget suddenly spoke up, 'he has replaced our Bessy with her!'

'Again,' said Catherine, 'she has not been replaced. You only had to see the state of the King a few months ago to realise how much Bessy meant to him…'

'And yet…'

But Cecily did not get a chance to finish, for at that moment, the King entered hand in hand with the Dowager Princess of Wales, followed by the three Royal Children and all four sisters, despite their royal blood, fell down into a curtsey at the sight of their brother-in-law.

'You may all stand,' said Henry, trying to loosen the tone of his voice, but despite being around family, he knew his sister-in-laws were fiercely loyal to his Elizabeth…and maybe the house of their father.

'Of course,' smiled Catalina, letting go of Henry's hand and extending her arms in greeting as if she was welcoming her own sisters, 'we are all family after all!'

Cecily and Bridget exchanged glances and tried to hold their tongues, especially as they saw Flake enthusiastically greet Catalina.

'Hello Flake,' cooed Catalina, bending down and stroking the silver grey hound, who jumped up and down in excitement at seeing his new mistress, 'how is my little girl?'

'Your little girl?' muttered Cecily, causing Henry to raise his eyebrow but before he could say something, Mary ran forward to greet her aunties.

'Auntie Cecily, auntie Anne, auntie Catherine,' she cried, waving her hands excitedly, 'and you must be my auntie Bridget! I am so happy to meet you,'

'And I you,' smiled Bridget, looking down at her little niece, feeling joy as she saw Elizabeth staring back at her, 'you are the spitting image of your mother,'

'Thank you,' beamed Mary, happy to once again be reassured that she would always have part of the woman who bore her with her, 'madre says the same thing,'

'Madre,' repeated Bridget, not sure of the Spanish, but getting the answer as she saw her niece take hold of Catalina's hand, 'oh I see…I must thank Your Highness for speaking to my superior and allowing me to have permission to travel and attend your wedding,'

She was a Bride of God, had been since the moment her mother discovered she was growing in her belly and she had strived to follow the rules of her orders to the utmost. But at that moment in time, Sister Bridget of York could not help but feel anger that the woman who had brought about this happy reunion, was seeking to take her sister's place.

'You are most welcome, Sister Bridget,' smiled Catalina as she took hold of Bridget's hand, 'it would not be right without you being here and I know little Mary has been so looking forward to meeting you,'

'Oh yes!' cried Mary, jumping up and down, 'I have been so excited! I have hardly slept!'

'Calm down, my little Maria,' cooed Catalina, kissing her future stepdaughter on the top of her head, 'or you will be too excited to eat your food,'

'Yes madre,' replied Mary, trying to find some decorum.

'Good girl. Now shall we all eat?'

'I am so looking forward to father and madre's wedding,' Mary chatted away merrily as she munched on some sweatmeats, 'can I show my aunties my new dress after lunch?'

'Of course, my little Maria,'

'Will you be wearing white again?' asked Cecily, trying to sound normal and not alert her brother-in-law to her true opinion of his young bride.

'Oh,' said Catalina, slightly started by the question as she one again was reminded of that glorious day nearly two years ago. But as she shifted uneasily in her seat, she suddenly felt Henry's hand on top of her's, 'it is not white this time, but I think I would like it to be a surprise for my husband,'

'I know you will look lovely in whatever dress you wear,' Henry muttered in a low voice, as he leaned in and whispered in Catalina's ear, before turning back to the table's company, 'tell me Lady Wells how are things with that new husband of yours? Enjoying life on his lowly estate?'

'We are in love, Your Highness,' answered Cecily without any trouble-she was a king's daughter after all, 'and love is all you need,'

'So very true,' laughed Catalina, her thumb stroking Henry's hand.

'Love is such a strong emotion,' continued Cecily, 'so often used for things other than good and all too often confused by lust,'

'Again that is also very true,' agreed Catalina with a serious smile as she took a delicate sip of wine, 'people are often use the hold they have over others for their own selfish gain,'

'Yes, like those ladies, who try to catch the eye of a high ranking vulnerable man…'

'Cecily!' hissed Anne, seeing how the King's eyes were narrowing, not to mention the tight protective hold he had on his young fiancée's hand. She was not sure what was happening to her sister, who next to Elizabeth, had always been the sweet and kind one of Edward IV's little princesses. Perhaps it was due to the closeness Elizabeth and Cecily had shared, which made her bitter at seeing the King replace his Queen so quickly or maybe it was a case of the distance appearing in their family with the arrival of a new member.

'Some women do not care for their virtue,' continued Catalina, 'though as long as we protect our own, we can I help guide others back to the true path,'

'Is that what your mother taught you?'

'Yes,' replied Catalina, though her smile, 'and the late Queen,'

'Yes, Elizabeth was a picture of virtue and chastity. She was a true Queen and an even truer sister,'

'I know,' answered Catalina, feeling sad as she thought on her predecessor and for the first time in a long while she forgot her jealously and remembered how she had come to look on Queen Elizabeth as a mother, 'I remember when I first returned to London from Wales, Her Highness came to visit me when I was still lying sick in bed. She held my hand-she was so kind, especially…especially when I had to explain that there was no baby. I thought she would be so angry and disappointed that I had failed in my duty, but she was not. Her Highness just kissed me gently on the forehead and told me that I should just rest and regain my strength. She said ladies and more importantly ladies of royal blood must never show the world weakness. We women may not hold the political power that men grasp, but that we hold something greater. It is our duty to keep the family together, for a happy family is a happy realm. That is why I invited you all here today and not just to our wedding. I want us all to be a united happy family, the way England should be,'

'You speak pretty words,' interrupted Cecily, no longer caring about what the King thought, 'but you overlook the fact that the lady you held in such high esteem and called mother, is the same lady who you replaced in her husband's affect in only a few months of her passing,'

'That is not fair on Catalina!' cried Harry, jumping to his feet, wanting to defend Catalina's honour, 'she has done nothing wrong!'

'For once I agree with my son,' said Henry coldly as he got to his feet and leaning over the table, glared at his sister-in-law, 'Lady Wells you have already fallen from grace and I suggest you plead for forgiveness before you find yourself even further from riches,'

'She is simply defending our sister, Your Highness,' pleaded Sister Bridget in a small voice, 'she is just trying to protect our family,'

'And if you all had listened to the Dowager Princess, who will soon be your Queen, you would have heard that she has the same aims as you,'

'Your Highness,' interrupted Catalina, getting to her feet and placing an arm gently on Henry's back, 'Henry please, I understand Lady Wells' hurt, for I too know what it is like to lose someone close. But I would like to reassure everyone here, that my marriage to His Highness is based on nothing but a love that first grew out of a shared loneliness a few months ago. Lady Wells and Sister Bridget, I assure you upon our Lady that I never thought of His Highness in that manner whilst the Queen was with us nor would I if she was still here. But I truly want us here to be a family, all of us, even you Lady Wells, if you would let me. Whilst you have hurt His Highness, I would like to help you and your new husband, make amends with my new husband. And Sister Bridget, I would like to help you too, even if its only a few coins to aid you and your Sisters. I know you all must distrust me, but I honestly mean no harm and I do genuinely want us all to be a family and for us all to be together, especially when the time comes for God to bless us with a new member,'

There was a silence around the table as all eyes were on Cecily and Bridget, everyone waiting to see their reaction, which was broken after little Mary with some promoting from Margaret, got to her feet.

'Hello,' she chirped, smiling as she looked around the table with her large grey eyes, 'I would just like to say, how happy I am that father is marrying madre. I did think it was a little strange at first, because father is so old…sorry as Uncle Thomas' says experienced and madre being only a few years ago little like me, but I like how they are happy now and how they look after me. Father has stopped being angry all the time and he comes and sees me in the nursery with madre. We go riding together and on picnics. They watch me play my music and at my lessons. Also at night when madre reads me a story from mama's book, father sometimes sits there too. Like I said to Margaret earlier, it is like we are a family again, as we sit at the table together, father eating with us again and not locking himself away from us,'

And with that, Mary, who was trying to catch her breath, sat down with a triumphant smile on her little face.

'Well,' said Cecily, her voice back to its normal, regal tone, 'I think for the good of England and for the good of our nephew and nieces, we can all try to be the family that Elizabeth would want us to be,'

* * *

'You look beautiful, sweetheart,' whispered Henry out of the side of his mouth, as he took Catalina's hand and the two of them led the Royal family and rest of the household out of the Archbishop's palace.

'Thank you, Your Highness,' smiled Catalina, trying not to show how nervous she was as she realized that for the first time she was to take the place of the queen in public.

'Don't be so nervous, Catalina, the people love you,' continued Henry, as they stepped out into the late evening sun to the waiting horses and litters, 'and we've got that preacher on our side, so all will be well,'

'But this will be the first time in public that I will sit by your side as a your Queen-in-waiting,'

Trying not to reveal it, Henry smiled sympathetically as he watched his young bride concentrate hard as she walked down the steps, trying to match his pace, whilst at the same time appear graceful and elegant.

'You know, sweetheart,' said Henry, as he came to rest by Catalina's litter and looking her up and down, 'when I told you could have some new dresses and jewels, I didn't mean for you to bankrupt me and the country in the process,'

'Your Highness, do you not remember?' giggled Catalina, briefly relaxing and forgetting the eyes of all were on them, 'I wore this when your mother held that banquet at Collyweston for Margaret , though some of my ladies have changed the neck and sleeves a little, but you said you liked it,'

'And I do, but my memory is not as good yours,' smiled Henry, 'the years are cruel, rather than kind,'

'But you are not old Henry,' replied Catalina, in a low voice that was heavy with her accent as she placed her hands on his chest, 'and we are going to have many of happy years together,'

Henry looked down at his fiancée, dressed in a dark green emerald dress, with a matching hood trimmed with bright white pearls and caught himself in her bright blue eyes. She was so young and Henry could not help but worry that one day his body might fail him, so that he could not make her happy and she found herself trapped with an aged cripple, rather than a lover. However, when she laughed, Henry found himself free of such worries, for it reminded him that there was still a life to be had despite the coldness of the world.

'May happy years,' said Henry, placing one hand on Catalina's cheek and the other around her waist, 'just us in peace and quiet,'

'I think I will like that,' whispered Catalina with a grin, her fingers playing with the fabric of Henry's doublet, 'I…'

'I think it was time we were on our way to Minster,' interrupted Lady Margaret, her face arched in lined of disapproval as she placed herself between Catalina and her son, 'Your Highness,'

'Of course, mother,' answered Henry, turning his back on his mother as he helped Catalina in to her litter, before gesturing to his oldest daughter to join her future step-mother, 'Margaret you too,'

'Thank you, father' said Margaret quietly as she settled down in the litter next to her step-mother to be.

'Father,' cried Mary letting go of her grandmother's hand rushing forward, 'why cannot I not sit with madre and Margaret?'

'Because you are not yet a Queen, Mary,' laughed Henry, taking hold of his daughter's hand as he bent down to be nearer her height, 'so until the day I find a King for you, you must ride with your Grandmother,'

'But father, I might not marry a King,' said Mary seriously, 'I might marry a duke or an earl,'

'Don't worry, my Mary, you will marry a King,' replied Henry, kissing his little daughter on the forehead, hiding his worries that his youngest was already too romantic for her own good, 'and you will be a great queen like your mothers and sister,'

* * *

It was only a short journey from the palace to the Minster, but in the litter of the Queen of Scotland and the soon to be Queen of England, it felt as very long and hard, as they both sat in silence; Margaret staring straight ahead as if she was made of stone and Catalina trying not to fidget as she thought desperately to think of words to break the silence.

'Thank you, Margaret,' Catalina said suddenly, trying to made her words sound natural and not long rehearsed in her head, 'thank you for standing up for your father and I,'

'You are welcome, Your Highness,' answered Margaret, still staring straight ahead, 'thought it was Mary who was your true saviour,'

'But with your help,' smiled Catalina, trying to hide her nerves as she placed a hand on top of her future step-daughter's, 'I wish you would call me Catalina,'

'I do not think that would be proper,' said Margaret, finally moving as she stared down at their linked hands, 'as Queen of England you will be my sister and as my father's wife, you will be my mother,'

'But you know as well as I that in your heart I will never be your mother and that is the way it should be,' continued Catalina, hoping she and Margaret would soon rebuild the relationship that had all but crumbled the night she had caught Catalina and her father in a passionate embrace, 'you know I do not want and never wanted to replace her, I just want us all to be happy,'

'You might find it difficult with Harry, but do not worry about me,' Margaret answered, sounding emotionless as her father as she spoke, but to Catalina, she sensed there was something more underneath the coldness of the Tudor voice, 'I will be in Scotland soon enough, but the knowledge that you will care for Mary and father is good enough to for me,'

* * *

Catalina found her nerves return as she and Henry walked down aisle to the awaiting chairs on the raised dais. Seeing the richly decorated chairs, amid all the glorious reminders of God and the calling he had bestowed upon her…on them…make her stomach churn with a vengeance.

She tried to get Henry's attention but he was too focused on the statue on the Virgin that was stood on the altar, her arms outstretched in greeting to her children. Realizing that the Holy Mother was truly what she should be focusing on, Catalina followed Henry's lead, but at the same time holding tighter to Henry's hand. Though when Catalina had to let go and crossed herself and made her offering at the altar, she notice she could not prevent her hands from shaking.

'You are perfect, sweetheart,' whispered Henry as they reached their raised seats and Henry went to sit, 'just remember the Holy Mother and who you are,'

'Please do not let go of my hand, Henry,' pleaded Catalina, holding on tight as they were both took their seats and Catalina was for the first time publicly recognized as Queen as she sat next to the King of England. Although it was not at Westminster, as Catalina sat on the finely cushioned seat, she felt a rush of ice surge through her as if all the spirits of the ladies who had once been the handmaid of the nation had suddenly come to rest in her-after all, soon she would be the sole remaining Queen of England, 'please,'

Henry did not turn, nor utter a word, but instead just continued to stare at Brother Marcus as he prepared to give his sermon, though slowly and carefully, Henry lifted their joined hands and kiss the back of Catalina's.

'As subjects of God,' Brother Marcus started, his voice trying hard not to falter as he felt the weight of the King's gaze on him, '…as God's subjects we must live in fear and dread of our Heavenly father, but we must not forget that the Lord also instructs us to love him. For do we not spend our lives, striving within these cathedral of holiness, to seek and secure God's love? As Solomon said, in my bed by night I sought him whom my soul loveth….'


	18. Chapter 18

**Thank you to everyone. Hope you all enjoy and next chapter I promise there will be a wedding. **

Whilst the King of England and his bride listened to the young preacher publicly bless their union, on the other side of York, in a small seedy tavern, a couple sat in a darken corner, talking in hush voices.

'You know, my services don't come cheap, love,' sneered the man, whose face bore all the hard marks of a life lived in the roughest of professions.

'I know,' answered Katarin, throwing a small bundle of tightly bound fabric on to the grease table, 'is that enough?'

The man snatched up the bundle with a sardonic grin, expecting to find only a few gold coins in the bottom of the self-made holdall, but the harden man nearly dropped it on the dirty floor in shock. For in that bundle was so many precious stones, that it was enough for all those in the Tam Lin public house to never do a day's work again and still have plenty of money to play with.

'Well,' said the man with a grin, hiding his shock as he concealed the bundle amid his cloak, 'that should be more than enough to kill a king,'

'Oh, you mistake my meaning,' interrupted Katarin quickly, trying to disguise her own shock at the misinterpretation of events, 'its not the King who is to die…it's his little bride who is to join Satan,'

'It was such a lovely service,' smiled Catalina as she peered out of litter, 'I was nearly moved to tears by Brother Marcus words,'

'Yes…very clever using the Song of Solomon to show the union of marriage is akin to the union of the people to their King,' replied Henry, his face in perfect neutral as he waved away a page and helped Catalina from her litter himself, 'you would never have guessed that only this morning he was thinking of provoking a rebellion,'

'Oh, Henry,' laughed Catalina, holding on to Henry's arm as they made their way back to the Archbishop's palace, 'does nothing move you?'

'Well,' said Henry as he paused for a brief moment and glanced at his bride, a small smile breaking on to his lips, 'I can think of one thing…'

Catalina once again laughed, as she found herself blushing and looking down at the ground as she sensed Henry's eyes on her and she thought back to earlier that day, when she had been amid the roses with Henry. She had flushed with heat as she had felt Henry's strong arms around her waist as Catalina had wrapped her arms around his neck and they had kissed each other hungrily. It was a different kiss then the one they had shared in front of family, friends and servants, for there was something almost raw about the way their mouths met with each other, causing Catalina to moan.

'Did you mean what you said?' she whispered, flicking her eyes up to look at Henry, 'when we were amid the roses, did you mean it when you said that you….,'

'Catalina, sweetheart,' Henry interrupted, placing a hand under her chin and guiding her face to tilt up towards him, 'I meant every word when I said….'

'Mother!' cried Harry loudly, as he rushed between his father and future stepmother, knocking his father's hands away from Catalina's delicate chin as he held up a beautiful beaded rosary, 'mother dear, I believe you dropped this,'

'Oh dear me yes! May God forgive me,' replied Catalina, taking the rosary from her soon to be stepson, before crossing herself then kissing the cross, 'thank you so much, Harry. I would be lost without it,'

'I remember you saying, mother, how your own mother gave it to you, the night before you left for England,' beamed Harry with pride as he realised he had Catalina's complete attention, 'and I would not want you to be upset,'

'Such a sweet boy,' cooed Catalina, kissing Harry on the cheek, 'you have been so attentive today, I am so proud of you,'

'Thank you, mother,' grinned Harry, turning to face his father, hoping to see him squirm with jealous as Catalina showed him affection, 'you know I would never want to see you hurt or upset,'

'I know, Harry and I know you never meant to cause any hurt last night,'

'I would never hurt you, mother,' continued Harry, wanting to hold his love's attention as his father took hold of her hand, 'and when father is not here, I will protect you,'

'I know you will, Harry,' smiled Catalina, leaning against Henry, 'but thankfully your father never lets me out of his sight,'

Harry bit his lip as he witnessed his love kiss his father's hand as he tried to maintain the mask of the perfect son. Why did she still fall into his father's arms? What sweet things had that old man been promising her, to get her to shower him with kisses and complements? Harry was sure that when Catalina looked at him, it was with a look of love-if only he could get her away from his father for a few minutes, Harry was sure that he would find a way to break the spell.

'Mother,' said Harry, as casually as he could without arousing his father's suspicions, 'I was wondering, that after you have put Mary to bed, if you would like to come to my chambers and listen to the poem I have written for you,'

'I am honoured, Harry,' Catalina started but before she had a chance to say any more, they were interrupted by the Earl of Oxford, Thomas and Catherine Bray, who was carrying a ragged piece of silk, that Catalina instantly recognized as belonging to her wedding dress.

* * *

'It's my wedding dress, ' cried Catalina, falling down hard to her knees beside Henry's bed as her shaking hands reached out to grab a handful of the fabric, which was laying scattered across the blankets, 'my wedding dress!'

'Catalina, sweetheart,' Henry whispered, kneeling down beside her as his eyes surveyed the torn mess that now lay across his bed, 'are you sure?'

'A woman knows her own wedding dress, Henry!' she sobbed, falling against her husband-to-be, weeping against his chest, the patch of silk fluttering to ground as Catalina grabbed a tight hold of Henry's doublet, 'I know I should not cry, it is only a dress, but it just it felt so special to me…I wanted to look special for you,'

'Catalina, shh, calm yourself sweetheart,' said Henry, putting his arms around her, holding her tight as he felt her tremble against him and he tried to hide his own anger and fear. Eighteen years had passed since that victorious day in Leicester and despite the peace he had brought to the realm, Henry was no fool. He knew he would never be as loved as his former father-in-law had been, for he lacked his golden looks and the personality to win over people's hearts…he lacked the heroic English looks that Kings of England were meant to possess. But nothing that the rebels had done had ever attacked this far into his home…nor had they ever targeted a member of his family, 'you have plenty pretty of dresses. You can wear one of those for our wedding,'

'But it what it represents,' wept Catalina, her young emotions taking over, 'it was meant to be the dress I wore as I became your wife,'

'I know, sweetheart, but you have plenty of pretty dresses, I'm sure one of them will do,' Henry lied as he keep his calm composure-he knew very well that this was not just simply a case of random attack on Catalina's wedding dress. He also knew that them leaving the shredded fabric on his bed, was a warning to Henry that his enemies were going to hurt the one thing that he gave his life meaning again, to get at him. With this in mind, he held his young love tighter and closer to him, 'besides the important thing is that we are married, it does not matter what you wear,'

'But I wanted to look special for you,' she whispered, burying her head in Henry's doublet, 'I do not understand-why steal the jewel from my dress and pull it to pieces? I have much jewels, why not steal those?'

'I don't know, sweetheart,' replied Henry gently as he gestured for Maria and Catherine Bray to come forward, before kissing Catalina, 'why don't you go and have a rest in your chambers as you have had a terrible shock,'

Catalina nodded her head, too in shock to argue as she let Henry help her to her feet and hand her carefully over to her ladies-in-waiting. She had been so looking forward to her wedding day, wanting everything to be perfect for the day when she would finally be a true married woman with a life and a destiny…but now she felt as broken as the shards of dress, which now lay on the King's bed.

'I will come and see you later, sweetheart,' Henry called after her, watching her go with a heavy heart as he felt anger steep through him. Long ago, Henry had learnt that when they came after him, they were not simply aiming to rid England of him…they were planning to rid the country of his family also. Many nights, especially since the loss of poor Arthur and dear Elizabeth, he found he could not sleep for fear of the terrors that the darkness would bring. But since that day when Catalina had agreed to be his wife, he found he could sleep at night without the fear that he would have to face the following day without the dark cloud of loneliness hanging over him-and Henry was not about to let anyone take that away from him. Therefore with a long finger, he indicated for the trusty Thomas Lovell and faithful Oxford to approach him, 'round up everyone whose has ever utter a word against us,'

* * *

_'Mother_!' cried Roland, causing Katarin to jump as she crept back into her lodgings, _'where have you been? I have searching for you all over the Palace,'_

'_Sorry, my boy_,' smiled Katarin as she kissed her son on the cheek, before throwing herself down on her little bed,_ 'I did not realise that you were looking for me Roland, but I had an appointment that I could not break,'_

'Mmm' sighed Roland, no longer trusting the woman he had once adored,_ 'the Dowager Princess has been crying,'_

'_Has she?,_' replied Katarin, studying the fabric of her heavy skirt as she remembered the rich red skirts she had been wearing the night she first fell into Henry's arms as she had been dancing in the castle grounds.

_'For Christ sake, mother!'_ shouted Roland, raising his voice for the first time in his life,_ 'she found her wedding dress robbed of its jewels and torn to shreds!'_

'_Do not raise your voice to me, Roland!'_ snapped Katarin, jumping to her feet with her hands on her hips, _'I raised you better than to shout at your elders,'_

Roland looked at his scowling mother and sighed as he looked at the floor, his cheeks flushed red as he faced the one person he could never be angry with, for he was the only one who truly understood her pain. Despite the love he had for his stepfather Loic, he and the rest of those in the community knew that the hard working blacksmith was not Roland's father. He remembered being a little boy, holding on to his mother's hand as she brought food from the market, men and women whispering amongst themselves as the two of them passed by. Roland recalled too, how one day in that market, the day his mother was buying the ingredients for his favourite cake, which she always made on his birthday, an old woman spate at them, catching his poor mother in the eye; it was only a few years later that Roland discovered that the old woman was in fact his grandmother!

_'I am sorry mother,_' answered Roland, shuffling from one foot to the another as he decided it was best not to mention that the Princess had spent the moments since finding her precious dress all torn and broken, weeping into his father's arms, _'but I worry about you. I hate seeing you hurt and I could not face losing you. You know they will hang you from stealing those jewels, please tell me where they are and we can put them somewhere, where they will think that the thief just panicked and left them,'_

_'Oh my sweet boy! You were always such a kind, sweet boy. Even those churls, who would call me whore, would always say how well behaved my boy was ,'_ smiled Katarin, as she approached her son and with a misty-eyed memory of the little boy, who use to help her fetch the water from the well with a song always on his lips, she embraced him,_ 'but alas I cannot get them back, nor do I want to! I have put them to good use and one day, Roland you will thank me,'_

_'Mother,'_ Roland started, but then decided to stop. He knew his mother was slowly turning into some human form of an avenging angel, which had only increased the closer his father's wedding day drew. He understood her hurt and pain, for he shared those emotions too, especially as soon his new stepmother would be expecting and Roland would have to stand by and watch his father lavish the love and attention on his half-sibling that Roland never had. But he was determined not to let it destroy him or his mother…though, in his heart of hearts he did not have the heart to challenge her, for it would only upset her. Besides, his mother, despite all her words, would never really do anything to harm his father or the Dowager Princess, _'I have torn the cuff of my shirt, could you please repair it for me,'_

_'Of course, my darling,'_ cooed Katarin, tugging gently on her son's cheek, the way she did when he was a little boy and for the first time in a long while she felt some peace as finally she had done something that would make sure her son's father was forever rid of his Spanish whore, '_you never need to ask. I would do anything for my Roland, but first I have a summons to answer,'_

* * *

'We have rounded up everybody known to have certain sympathies,' said Thomas Lovell in dry manner that mimicked the King, 'all protest their innocence,'

'Of course they would,' replied Henry in an almost weary fashion as a page help him take off his doublet, 'life would be too simple if they just rolled over,'

'We took the liberty of putting them behind bars anyway, Your Highness,' continued Lovell, his voice hiding the pride he felt in completely another job well done, 'there was also this, Your Highness,'

Out of his pocket, Lovell produced a very thin, but heavily printed pamphlet, which he handed to the King. With a sigh Henry took the pamphlet as he sat down on the edge of his bed, his eyes scanning the contents and it made his stomach churn. It was not the first time someone had tried to denounce him, though perhaps the first where they had portrayed him as King Herod. But it was not him being depicted as the destroyer of innocence that caused his blood to boil…it was the callous portrayal of Catalina as temptress Salome, enticing Henry away from his morals and duty, which made him ill.

'How many have been printed?' asked Henry, perfectly hiding is emotions, but his hands betrayed his thoughts as he scrunched the paper into a tight ball as he got to his feet.

'About a hundred,' replied Lovell, watching intently as the King's thin fingers continued to pound the paper, 'though none were distributed…they were waiting for the day of the wedding to hand them out,'

'Do you have them all in our keeping?' muttered Henry, wandering over to the fire place and as calmly as possible, he threw the ball of paper in the flames. As he watched the flames engulf the scurrilous pamphlet, Henry thought how despite all his efforts he still could not keep Catalina safe. Maybe they should have done what his former father and mother-in-law had done, by marrying in secret without the rest of the world knowing. They might have risked wrath of certain persons, but then at least he could protector her completely, making sure that when the nights came, she was not alone and he could keep her away from harm.

'Yes, Your Highness,'

'Good,' continued Henry, still staring at flames, watching closely as it ate away at the sinful paper, 'destroy them all, leave none intact and make sure all involved are kept under lock and key… Her Highness the Dowager Princess must not hear, nor see a word of this. I'll not have her hurt any more than she already has been,'

'Yes, Your Highness,' answered Lovell, exchanging a quick glance with Oxford, for he was never too sure how to react when his dreaded sovereign showed signs of weakness.

'Now,' said Henry, catching sight from the window of the lights coming from Catalina's chambers. He suddenly felt his darkness lifted as he realised there was nothing truly stopping him from going to see her. They would be married within a few days and besides she would be surrounded by her ladies…not to mention that he had promised her that he would see that she was well after all the drama of the evening, 'I am off to see that the Dowager Princess has recovered,'

And with that Henry, along with a few of personal servants left, leaving Lovell and Oxford alone in the chamber, Oxford trying not to smile as he noticed the grim expression on his companion's face.

'Do not look so grim, Lovell,' grinned Oxford, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, 'a happy king is a happy realm,'

'And a lovelorn King, only makes a weak realm,' muttered Lovell, who hated detecting weakness in the man he had come to idolise, 'while he is off playing with his Princess, those with evil intent are circling,'

'You always think evil intent is circling,' laughed Thomas, entering the room, 'you are worse than King when it comes to these matters. Besides, as Oxford said, a happy king is a happy realm, because a happily married King with a very young and enthusiastic wife, is going to mean lots of little princes and lots of little princes means that the throne is secure and the people can lie in bed at night without worrying that the King is going to go snuffing around their gold coins,'

* * *

'Your Highness!,' exclaimed Catalina, breaking away from the instructions she was issuing to her seamstresses and jumping to her feet along with the rest her ladies as the King of England appeared in her rooms, 'Henry!'

'Catalina,' smiled Henry, his simply focusing on her, ignoring the coal-black glare of one of his bride's seamstress, 'I'm glare you are still awake,'

'Only just, Your Highness,' said Catalina, carefully as she pulled her robe tight around her night shift and looked uneasily at her ladies-in-waiting, wondering what they were thinking, 'I was just about to retire,'

'Then I will not keep you long,' Henry replied, dismissing the lower classes of servants with a wave of his hand as with the other, not caring what others thought as he took hold of Catalina's hand and guided her towards the fireplace, 'come and sit with me for a moment, sweetheart,'

'I…' Catalina started but hesitated as Henry sat down on a pile of well plumped cushions, decorated with cloth of gold and bid her to join him. She wanted to, as when they were together she always felt safe especially when Henry had his arms around her and she could rest her head on his chest and forget the troubles of the day, but she too realized the dangers of doing so. There were ladies in that chamber who had still not yet warmed to her and would enjoy gossiping about the undressed Princess being the arms of the only slightly more dressed King.

'Sweetheart,' smiled Henry, squeezing her hand in reassurance, 'you know I would never do anything to compromise you and I know for certain, Lady Bray and your Spanish ladies would never let that happen,'

Out of the corner of her eye, Catalina saw Catherine Bray exchange a rather rare mischievous smile with Francisca, who giggled. If it had just been Francisca, Catalina might have continued to hesitate rather than join Henry on cushions, but seeing Lady Bray smile made her feel as if it was her mother was giving her permission. However, Katarin, the Queen-in-waiting's new seamstress, who hung back in the hall, was not quite so forgiving as she stormed away down the corridor.

'See, sweetheart,' smiled Henry, putting an arm around his bride, 'I came to see you, like I promised,'

'And I am glad your Highness,' said Catalina, leaning against Henry's chest and putting an arm around his waist, 'and you are right, I have plenty of dresses, I will wear one of them, though with a few changes, so I can be the perfect Queen of England for you,'

Henry continued to smile as Catalina snuggled against him and he let his fingers stroke the auburn strains of her hair. The chamber was near silent, the only sounds being the crackling of the flames and the low humming of Lady Bray who was sat sewing in the corner, along with Maria and Elizabeth's sisters, who eyes were focused on their stitches, rather than passing comment on what they had reconciled themselves with. Henry liked moments like this. He was not a King who enjoyed the drama of life. He would stand his ground, but he did not enjoy the excitement that other Kings found in the drama of kingship. No, Henry liked peace, its what he wanted in his realm and what he wanted in the private world, which he retired to at the end of the day.

'Sorry for my tears, Henry,'

'Sh,' whispered Henry, twirling a strand of Catalina's hair in his fingers, 'don't say sorry and I promise whoever did this will be punished,'

'Lets not talk about such things,' replied Catalina, tightening her hold on Henry's waist as she continued to rest her head on his chest, 'besides, I feel so safe now,'

'Good. I've increased the guards on your door tonight and Oxford and Thomas will stay with them… so you'll have Oxford to look after you at least,' smiled Henry, leaning forward and kissing her gently on the top of the head, 'I swear, I will never let anyone harm you, Catalina,'

'I know, Henry, I know,' returned Catalina, hesitating before kissing him on chest, feeling it was the right, yet not sure if it was proper as she then turned to face Henry, 'does your mother know you are here?,'

'Mother doesn't need to know everything,' chuckled Henry, pushing Catalina long hair from her face as he saw her beautiful smile beam back at him as leaned forward to kiss him.

'And yet she does know everything, Your Highness,' cried Lady Margaret, bursting through the doors of the chamber, causing all the ladies to jump to their feet, all except Catalina, who despite the shock remained in Henry's arms, 'and she might asked, Your Highness, what are you doing, alone in a lady's chamber at this time of night?'

'First of all mother, I would like to point out, that we are not alone and that if you think that we would do things you are implying, than you really don't know your son at all,' muttered Henry, starting to get annoyed at his mother's constant interruptions. Perhaps it was because she been robbed of the chance to do such things when he was a young man and Henry in turn had never experience such things, for Uncle's Jasper's way of dealing with Katarin was to simply treat her as if she was Henry's wife, ('You treat her in your bed as she your wife, Harri, so we might as well treat the maid as such when she's out of it')….it was only when the hunchback killed his kin, that Jasper decided Katarin had to go-only by that time, Katarin was not alone!

'I am not implying that you and the Dowager Princess were doing anything unholy,' she hissed through her teeth, so that only Henry and Catalina could hear her words of scorn, 'but I am saying what others might not think the same. We have worked hard, getting the people to accept this marriage, do not let a few weak moments, ruin everything. You can keep your hands off each other for a few more days at least,'

'We have done nothing wrong,' replied Catalina, every inch her mother's daughter as she finally and slowly got to her feet, still holding Henry's hand, 'His Highness…Henry… was just making sure I was safe and well,'

'Was he,' answered Lady Margaret, raising an eyebrow, ' and he could not ask you this with simple words? It required him to pull you down on top of him as you both lie on a mountain of pillows,'

'Mother!,' Henry interrupted, as he grabbed his mother's arm and pulled her towards the door, 'a word. Catalina, I will bid you goodnight,'

'Goodnight, Your Highness,' said Catalina, softly as she went after him and placed a hand on his shoulder, 'thank you for coming to see me and for making me safe,'

'You are welcome, sweetheart,' replied Henry, his voice warmer now as he let go of his mother and turned to face Catalina. Without any hesitation he placed his hand gently on her shoulder and leaned in to whisper in her ear, 'I would kiss you goodnight sweetheart, but I fear it would lead my mother to an early grave,'

Catalina giggled but as Henry went to pull away, she caught hold of his wrist and pulled him back towards her.

'It is no matter,' she whispered with a smile, 'soon I will be able to kiss you goodnight as many times as I like,'

For a moment the two of them just looked at each other, neither saying anything as they just stared at each other, both knowing what the other was thinking. However, the loud tutting that came from Lady Margaret in the doorway, caused them to part.

'Goodnight, Catalina,'

'Goodnight, Henry,' smiled Catalina more boldly, 'and tomorrow it will only be two more days,'

* * *

'Mother!' shouted Henry, in a rare fit of anger against the only constant presence he had in this world, 'how dare you?! May I remind you whose King!'

'And may I remind you, Your Highness, who is your mother,' replied Lady Margaret without flinching at her son's anger, 'the woman who carried you around insider her for nine months and brought you safely into this world, while your father-may he rest in peace- abandoned us to rot to death in some dungeon in Wales! The woman who nearly died giving birth to you! The woman that stood by you when the rest of the world did not give a damn! The woman who stood by you though all the dangers you have ever faced! The woman who has comfort you and nursed you through every sickness and pain! That was me, Henry, your mother and regardless of the crown you wear on your head, you still treat me in the way God intended! And speaking of your kingship, I think its time you remembered your duties, Henry,'

'And what is that supposed to mean mother?!' snapped Henry, throwing himself down on a pile of golden pillows.

'I will tell you exactly what that is supposed to mean, my boy,' fired back Lady Margaret, wagging a finger violently at her son as if he was still a little boy in need of scolding, 'since you and the princess have come together, shall we say, you have done nothing but moon over her like some lovestruck stable lad-not a King who has a country to rule or dynasty to secure. Kissing and fondling a young girl in the rosebushes are not the actions of God's anointed King!'

'Fondling!' snapped Henry, jumping to his feet, 'we were kissing and you make it sound dirty!'

'Because it is! If you cannot kiss your little princess in front of your subjects and more importantly, your own mother, than people might start to suspect that you and your little princess are up to things which are quite unchaste! You will end up just like that father-in-law of yours if you carry on the way you are with your little princess,'

'Dying in your bed surrounding by your weeping family and subjects doesn't sound so bad,' grunted Henry, going over to the window and resting his head on the wall, 'and stop calling Catalina my little princess-you make me sound filthy,'

For a moment there was silence between mother and son as both found their words against each other hurtfully to themselves and against the one they had aiming to wound. Lady Margaret was especially hurt as she had never meant to upset him, just make him see sense over the way others would perceive his actions…and to stop him making a fool of himself. But now, as she saw how dejected her only child looked in the evening light, Lady Margaret decided to change tact.

'Henry,' said Lady Margaret gently as she placed a hand on her son's arm in a display of motherly concern, 'my boy, it is not too late to call off the wedding?'

'Call it off!,' replied Henry, looking at his mother with horror as he shook off her hand, 'why would I want to call it off?! You were the one who wanted me to marry her? You placed Catalina under my nose at every available opportunity, telling me how beautifully she is and how happy we would be together with the babes she'd give me! Yet the moment, me and Catalina decide that we can build a future together, you want me to put an end to it!,'

'I am your mother, Henry and you speak to me with some respect!' said Lady Margaret raising her voice at the man who she still saw her son first and foremost, before she saw him as her King, but that being said, Lady Margaret always hated shouting at her boy. Besides, she could not face losing him any further too the young Princess, 'I am sorry, my boy, will you please forgive me…Henry, you know everything I have ever done was because I have you best interests at heart, the same as what I do when I say that you should not build a marriage on lust. It will not work. Once you had each other the thrill will be gone and you will both come to loath each other with an equal passion as you once wanted each other,'

'I know, mother,' said Henry quietly as he walkaway from her and coming to stand by the fire place, his eyes looking at the intertwined H and C on the cuff of the shirt Catalina had made for him, 'and believe me mother I wish it was just lust…for then things might be simple…less painful,'

'Henry?'

'If it was simply lust, then I would not be tortured by terrors of me losing her,' he continued very quietly as he revealed openly the fears that plague him, 'I wouldn't constantly plagued by fears of her dying in my arms…I love her, mother,'

'I know you do, Henry, I know you do,' whispered Lady Margaret, in a much more motherly fashion, deciding it was best to agree with her son's feelings, rather than risk losing him any further to the future wife. Beside, she could see the pain in her son's face and hear the fear in his voice. People thought she had no a maternal instinct in her small body but they were greatly wrong, for Lady Margaret always knew when her son needed his mother…and she could tell he needed her now, 'and you know Henry, that we cannot argue with the will of God, but you have no reason to fear. The Princess is a strong girl, perhaps a bit fussy with her food and drink, but a strong girl nevertheless, she will have no trouble when she comes to childbed,'

'You said that about Elizabeth, mother,' replied Henry, looking at her sadly as he felt a coldness flood through him, 'Catalina wants a child so much…she has promised me a nursery full of heirs, but mother, sometimes I sit there and all I think of is watching the life slip out of her, as she tries to prove to me how much she loves me,'

'Henry…my little Harri,' smiled Lady Margaret, with an understanding smile as she reached up and touched Henry's cheek, 'you worry too much over things that might never happen or have no control over. I know, why don't I get a servant to bring you some milk and honey to help you sleep…Remember when you were a boy and I use to bring it to you, before I read you a story and we would say your prayers together,'

Henry returned his mother warm smile as he leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, before nodding his head in acceptance of his parent's kind suggestion. He continued to smile as he saw how happy his acceptance had made his mother, who move towards the door with a bounce in her step and warmness in her small face, despite both knowing that the memory Lady Margaret had was one that had never taken place; both knowing that the memories fixed in Henry was head, were of other women bring his young-self hot milk and honey and tucking him into bed.


	19. Chapter 19

**Am so sorry about the length of time this update has taken me. Had really bad writers block and things have been a bit stressful over the past year-big thank you to everyone that helped me get through them. Anyway I hope this chapter makes up for my poor timing. **

**PS the story Henry reads to Katarin is from Geoffrey of Monmouth's The History of the Kings of Britain. **

_Henry tried not to stare as Katarin kneeled by the side of his bed and in that gentle Breton accent of her's, whispered her evening prayers. But it was easier said than done, for in the heavy candle light, it only heightened her beauty as it make her skin an alluring porcelain white against her jet black hair. Biting on his lip, Henry turned away and stared at the opposite wall, causing himself to curse as unholy thoughts kept plaguing his mind. _

_He hated himself for the thoughts he kept having, for Katarin was the only good thing he had in his life at the moment. He had not seen Jasper in nearly a month and he missed his mother, who he had not seen since that brief visit to London in what now seemed a life time ago. Perhaps Henry should be used to being by himself, to having people being taken from his life, but the thing was Henry found it only got worse, especially in the darkness of night. It was why Katarin left her mother's cottage every night to sneak though the secret passages up to Henry's chamber and spend the night with him. No one, not even Jasper believed that in the past year when Katarin had been spending the night, that they did nothing but cuddle and talk, before falling asleep. It bothered Henry that people were gossiping about Katarin, calling her whore, though it was made worse by the fact that Henry was starting to be plagued by fantasies of their naked bodies entwined and doing things most unholy._

_Henry had never felt like this before. Maybe it was the being so far away from home and not having a mother around to keep his mind on the correct path. _

'_Amen' whispered Katarin softly as she crossed herself, the movement of her arm causing the neck of her night gown to slip down and caused Henry to bite hard on his bottom lip. For he could see the curves of her breasts peeking through the slit of her night shift, causing the images of them together indulging in the sin of lusts to flash through his minds. It was wrong, they had sworn to wait until their wedding night._

'_Katarin,' Henry suddenly shouted, for as he moved away, he caught sight of a bright purple mark starting to appear beneath the white linen of Katarin's shift, 'what happened? I told Judoc to leave you be,'_

'_I know you did,' smiled Katarin, as she got to her feet and perched on the side of the bed, taking hold of Henry's hand as she did, 'and to think my mother told me you were only interested in taking my honour and not defending it,'_

'_Did she do this?' asked Henry quietly as he climbed out from his place in the bed and gently wrapped his arms around her, whilst Katarin nodded her response, 'Katarin, this is getting too much! I want to protect you, not put you in danger,'_

'_Oh Harri,' laughed Katarin softly as she curling up on Henry's lap, nestling her head underneath his, 'my mother has always hit me when she thinks I'm lying…only now she beats me when I tell the truth. I told her all we do is talk and cuddle and nothing more, but she won't believe me. Thinks we are rolling under the covers, not that you need me to help you sleep,'_

'_But we need to worry about you too,' continued Henry as he tightened his hold on Katarin, not wanting to let her go, forgetting for a moment the trouble the heat of her perfect flesh had caused him, 'mothers should not hurt their children,'_

'_But not all mothers can be perfect as yours, Harri!' giggled Katarin as she kissed Henry on the lips, 'come lets got to bed and you can read some more to me,'_

'_Kambria shall be filled with joy and the Cornish oaks shall flourish,' Henry read as Katarin snuggled against him, pulling the covers tightly around them so as to not let any of the cold air in. Yet the closer she burrowed into his body, the harder Henry found it was to concentrate on the text he was reading to his love. Her body was so warm, that Henry could feel the heat coming from her, despite both their bodies being covered with shifts. He hated himself for wanting to take his arm away from her body, but Henry was not sure he could take much more of feeling her flesh caressing his. At least when she was asleep, Henry could move away to the other side of the bed, but he could not do so whilst she was still a wake, 'Katarin?'_

'_Oh don't stop, Harri,'she sighed snuggling further against him, 'I like it when you read to me as it makes me forget the world,'_

'_Katarin,' asked Henry, trying to shift, 'does it not bother you that everyone is talking about us…thinking that we are doing…doing things that are reserved for the marriage bed,'_

'_Oh Harri,' giggled Katarin, 'who taught you to speak like that?'_

'_My mother,' admitted Henry, looking down at his book, suddenly missing the woman who gave birth to him._

'_You miss her, don't you?' replied Katarin softly, staring at Henry's eyes and seeing the tears her love was trying to suppress, 'its alright Harri, you do not have to pretend for me. I know it must be awful being so far away from home,'_

'_But that's the thing,' Henry sighed, continuing to look down at the book, 'I miss mother so much, but now I have you it no longer hurts,'_

'_Do you mean that, Harri?' whispered Katarin, placing a hand on Henry's face and trying get him to look at her. Despite the love she had for Henry, she never for a moment felt that he would utter such noble words-after all, she was only a kitchen girl, 'because you don't have to make kind gestures on my part,'_

'_But I am not, Katarin,' cried Henry, suddenly letting emotions take control of him as he threw the book aside, grabbing hold of Katarin and pulling her to him, 'I mean every word. I love you and I cannot imagine my world without you! I love you so much it hurts and it hurts so much the pain is unbearable. The thought of being without you makes it difficult to breath! I love you so much and I want…'_

_Henry stopped as he suddenly let his heart take full control of himself and kissed Katarin in passion that he had never felt before or knew existed. His mouth met Katarin with a fever that made him want to possess her, especially as he wrapped her arms around her, crushing her body against his. But it was as he felt her breasts against his chest through the thins of shifts, he suddenly pulled away as he felt the heat gathering in the base of his back._

'_Katarin,' Henry mumbled talking into his chest, 'I am sorry. I should not have kissed you, for it was wrong,' _

'_But how can it be wrong, Harri?'asked Katarin, once again guiding Henry to look at her, 'I love you and you love me. We are going to get married and have babies, so there is nothing wrong with us kissing or…or acting like we're man and wife?'_

'_But it will bring you to trouble, Katarin,' said Henry, mournfully, 'more trouble than you are already in. Your mother and Judoc are…'_

'_But I don't care about them, Harri,' cried Katarin, wrapping her arms around Henry, 'all I need is you and us. I don't need them, all I need is us, our babies and our house in Rennes,'_

'_You mean Pembroke, Katarin,' replied Henry, his thin lips starting to form into a grin as his fingers started to play with his love's long black hair, twirling it around his fingers, 'mother will see to it that I and Uncle can return to Wales. I can show you Pembroke then and I know Joan would like to meet you…'_

'_See Harri,' smiled Katarin, ignoring the nerves and fears growing in her belly as she comforted her sweetheart. Despite her confidence, deep down the sneers and abuses of her mother and some of the others in the village hurt, especially as she was no whore and it stung to hear her family and friends call her such, 'our future is going to be perfect. Maybe God has sent us some troubles now, but once we have proven our faith, God and the Saints will see to it that we have the future we planned,'_

'_Our golden future,' Henry smiled as he once again felt Katarin's calming influence, 'you and I, a family with peace and hope,'_

'_And maybe,' continued Katarin as she leaned in and brushed her lips against Henry as in her mind she saw a glowing image of the promise land, where she and her Harri were left in peace and could live together in harmony with the many children God would bless them with, 'our golden future is closer than we think,'_

'_Katarin,' sighed Henry, once again feeling the heat rising from both their bodies as Katarin's lips lingered over his, 'we do not have to if you do not want to,'_

'_I want to Harri,'whispered Katarin as she pulled away slightly and taking hold of Henry's hand, guided it through the top of her shift and to her left breast, 'I love you Harri and I want us to be together…together as man and wife,'_

_Henry froze once again, but only briefly as he saw that despite Katarin's hand trembling, when he looked in those coal black eyes of hers he saw no nerves. He saw a strong woman, capable of much heroism and love and more importantly a love that was reserved for him. She truly was his light in the lonely world he found himself in and the only one who could securing him that perfect and loving future that Henry craved._

_Slowly Henry let his thin lips meet Katarin full red mouth and started to kiss her gently but as she let go of his hand and with both arms pushed herself as far as she could on to Henry, the kissing became more deeper and passionate. Their tongues seemed to be fighting each other as both tried to explore every inch of the others mouths, whilst their hands clawed desperately at the other's back trying to satisfy the heat of their bodies and their desire to rub up against the skin of the other._

'_Harri,' groaned Katarin as they fell back on to the bed and Henry took his mouth away from hers and started to use his tongue to explore her neck and breasts._

* * *

'Without wanting to sound disrespectful, Your Highness,' Henry heard Lord Strange say as he stood in front of the glass, 'do you not think it would be wiser to have another escort the Dowager Princess down to the Minster?'

Henry listened but he did not respond, for his mind was too focused on absorbing the sight that the glass reflected back at him. Catalina had spent months persuading him to set aside the black and to wear something of colour for their wedding but despite now being dressed in the purple and gold, it did not stop the old fears returning. The face that stared back at him was the face of a man who bore every inch the forty plus years of his life with trauma and stress that accompanied it. It was a face that Henry felt was out of place alongside the fresh youth that his beautiful bride's face always wore but then there was a perfect reason for that. His wife-to-be was half his age, who would still giggle innocently with little Mary when they played hide and seek around the gardens and again that was to be expected-she was closer to his youngest daughter's ages than his. Then there was her body and spirit, which was youthful and full of energy and passion- was it fair then for Catalina to have to rely on an old man to satisfy her ardent needs?

'Could Thomas not be given the honour?' continued Lord Strange, 'as you must be well aware brother, you and he are closer than you and I,'

'That's true, brother,' said Henry, his eyes breaking away from the glass in an attempt to hide his fears, 'but you as the oldest, you should take priority and besides today is about family and we want the people to see us as a happy family, don't we brother dear?'

With his piercing eyes, Henry stared at his eldest step-brother, hiding ever emotion that was flowing through his mind as he attempted to remain in control.

'And that is what we are, aren't we brother,' Henry continued, 'one big, united and happy family, just like England,'

'Of course, brother,' replied Lord Strange, trying to match the coldness of his stepbrother's stare, without losing face as he was once again trapped in a situation in which he had no control over, but before he could continue he was interrupted.

'I am sorry, You Highness,' interrupted Roland, dressed in the Tudor colours of green and white, 'but I have been asked to inform you that the Prince's household are having trouble waking him,'

* * *

Harry smirked and snuggled underneath the bed sheets as he heard his father's footsteps become closer. He could tell by the hard click of his father new leather boots that he had riled him and if Harry had his way, soon he would have his father so angry that this façade of a wedding could not take place. Besides if the groom's son and heir to the realm refused to stand at his father's side as he married a girl young enough to be his daughter, it would not send out the important political message his father was always trying to enforce. Harry knew how much his father like to think of himself as the great unifier and he knew how bad it would look, if the world saw that Prince of Wales did not agree with the King's new marriage.

'Where's my son?' Harry heard his father bark as he came closer to the bed chamber door, giving Harry his cue that he needed to pretend to be asleep.

'His Highness the Prince of….' started Charles but he did not have chance to finish, for the King charged past him and stormed through the heavy door.

'Harry!' said Henry, trying not to raise his voice, 'I want you out of bed this instant! You will not ruin today!'

But Harry refused to answer his father's wishes and instead just rolled over, trying hard not to smile as out of the corner of eye, he saw his father's left eye start to twitch-a sure sign he was about to lose his temper.

'Please Harry, I'm not asking you! I'm tell you to get out of those blanket this instant and into your clothes!' remarked Henry, crossing his arms and tapping his right boot hard on the floor as he gave his son a chance to redeem himself, 'Harry, I mean it!'

But the only movement that came from the Prince of Wales was a pattern of loud, exaggerated snoring with the occasional grunt, causing Henry to sigh. Arthur would never have behaved in…but Henry suddenly stopped and tried to suppress the thought in the back of head. Henry did not need those thoughts of him being unfaithful to the memories of departed wife and eldest son ruining the day. Surely both would want him to be happy-surely they would happy that he and Catalina had found peace together? Of course they would, for unlike Harry, they did not possess the over-indulged genes that belonged to King Edward.

With that in Henry's mind, he reached for the picture that rested on the chest beside the bed and with a small twist of the wrist, he spilt a few splashes of cold water over Harry's head.

'Jesus!' screamed Harry, jumping out of the bed covers and landing with loud thud on the floor, 'you could have bloody killed me!'

'Stop whining, Harry,' replied Henry, emotionlessly as he set the picture down, 'when I was your age my uncle use to pour the whole jug over me and it never did me any harm! Now I want you dressed and ready for the Minister within the hour-I'll not have you ruin today!'

'The only one ruining today is you father!' snapped back Harry as he dried his face on the bed's curtain, 'everyone knows that Catalina deserves better than you!'

'By everyone, I assume you mean you, Harry,' answered Henry with a sigh, deciding just to let Harry have his say-it was better he do it now, than make a spectacle of himself later when the world was watching.

'I speak for everyone,' Harry continued to roar, thinking himself the lion of England at that moment, 'and unlike you, father, I know what my subjects think and I know they are all laughing at you. Laughing to high Heaven at the King, who thinks he can satisfy an eighteen year old maiden,'

'When you our old enough to understand the words you have just spoken to me, Harry, then we'll talk,' said Henry, looking his son directly in the eye as he tossed a clean shift at him, 'but as that day seems to be a long way off, I suggest you keep your mouth shut and get dressed,'

'You can hide behind that cold face of yours, father, but you know I speak the truth,' continued Harry, snatching at the shirt, 'we both know that come tomorrow morning, poor, sweet Catalina would have suffered another disappointing wedding night,'

'Harry,' replied Henry, determined that despite his fears nothing was going to ruin the day, 'if you care anything for Catalina, you will get dressed and behave yourself today,'

'And if you cared anything for you _sweetheart_!' shouted Harry, stamping his foot so hard on the floor that it actually made his bone shake, 'you would put a stop to this nonsense and let her be with someone who she truly loves and someone who truly loves her,'

'Harry, I don't want to fight with you,' sighed Henry, walking towards the door, 'just get ready,'

'Is that why you do not want me walking her down the aisle,' asked Harry bitterly, as a group of servants came in with Harry's clothes, 'because you are worried that as I walk her through the Minster, Catalina real realize the horror of what awaits her and what she is missing!'

'Harry,' sighed Henry heavily, looking briefly over his shoulder at his oldest surviving son, Harry's plump round face, bright red with anger, 'you're my son and despite what you think, I do love you very much and mean every word, when I say, that I prayer to God, that you never know hurt or pain. But if the Almighty ever feels the need to send pain to your door, then you'll understand the importance of taking happiness when God blesses you again,'

There was silence for a moment, as Henry inwardly breathed a sigh of relief as he hoped that finally he had succeeded in winning over his son and that he and Catalina could start their married life in peace. However, Harry truly was his grandfather's son and Henry soon found his illusions shattered.

'You may be happy, but we all know Catalina is not,' sneered Harry, shaking off a servant, 'she is only marrying you as she does not want to hurt your feelings! You will never make her happy,'

'Harry,' sighed Henry, before gathering some strength as he realized the amount of servants that were listening, 'just remember who you are and get ready!'

And with that, the King of England slammed the door shut, signally for the servants to continue to getting the Prince of Wales ready, though Charles Brandon hung back slightly, before mustering the courage to approach his friend and future ruler.

'Your Highness,' he whispered in Harry's ear as he helped him on with his doublet, 'perhaps it is best to make peace with your father's marriage. After all, its produce can only help you,'

'Who ask you?!' snapped Harry, shacking off his best friend, 'you are the son of a standard bearer, what could you possible know,'

* * *

Henry sat down in the window seat of his chamber as he dismissed his servants and with a sigh, placed his head in his hands. Running his fingers through his hair, he let the tops of his stumped nails scratch the skin as he wondered at what moment relations had gone wrong between himself and his second son. Henry would not deny that he had always been closer to Arthur, but he had never neglected Harry. He had always tried to be a good father and be the father that he had never known. Henry had even thought that despite all the heartbreak of April and the following February, perhaps it would help bring the two of them together. However the distance had only increased.

'Henry!' cried Lady Margaret, bursting into her son's temporary apartments and marching up to her son before Henry had a chance to react, 'can you please explain why your father's family have just arrived,'

'They have just arrived, mother, because they were invited to the wedding,' replied Henry dryly, getting to his feet, 'and Catalina wants them here, especially as she has none of her family with her,'

'So because none of the Princess' family can be bothered to grace us with their presence, I have to put up a house full of harpy playing uncouths,' muttered Lady Margaret as she came to stand by Henry's side, 'and before you say anything my boy, I know perfectly well how the land of your father and uncle-may they rest in peace-help you win your throne, but Henry…'

'You yourself employ many Welshmen, mother,' sighed Henry, hoping that Catalina was having an easier wedding morning than he, 'and you trust them,'

'Because I do,' answered Lady Margaret, taking hold of her son's hand, 'but you of all people should know how the English are. It is not going to help your cause if you are seen letting them sup at the top table,'

'Mother they are here as my guests and you know as well as I that they will behave themselves,' said Henry seriously as he squeezed his mother's hand, 'as long as no one tells that God awful joke about St Peter and the Welsh in Heaven,'

'Then we better make sure that Thomas stays away from the wine,' sighed Lady Margaret with what Henry recognized as a little laugh, 'I am very proud of you, Henry, you know that do you not?'

Henry looked at his mother out of the corner of his eye. It was not the first time she had told him how proud she was of her only child, but at that moment it seemed slightly out of place. Not that Henry would ever question her on it, for it made him feel closer to the woman that bore him and made up for the long lonely years of their separation.

'I know, mother,' smiled Henry as he kissed her cheek, 'I know you are and I am proud that you are my mother,'

'I would give my life for you, Henry, always remember that,' continued Lady Margaret as she embraced her son, 'and that if she ever hurts you…'

'But Catalina won't,' laughed Henry with conviction, suppressing his fears as he remembered his bride's own fears at the way she clung to his hand when they had attended ceremonial functions together over the last few days, 'now please be gentle with Catalina,'

'Of course, Henry,' said Lady Margaret, placing her hands on the side of her son's face, 'but if she ever hurts you, my boy, I will no longer be bound by that promise,'

'Well mother that will never happen,' smiled Henry, feeling confident about the future-after all he was not an old man yet, he was just older than his new wife. Besides he was feeling better than he had in a long time-even from when dear Elizabeth was alive-there was no reason why he could not have many years left. He and Catalina could have a long, happy married life together, with much love and lots of Princes and Princess as proof of their love, 'now promise me, especially as I suspect that it was not simply fate that may have had a helping hand in arrange this match, that you will be kind to Catalina-after all she will need your help as much as mine,'

'I know, Henry,' smiled Lady Margaret softly as she drew Henry's towards her and kissed her only child on the top of the head, 'she will be like a daughter to me as long as she remembers that she is not only woman of power in England,'

'And I am sure you will do everything in your power remind poor Catalina of the fact, mother,' Henry chuckled, taking hold of his mother's hand as he started to look forward to today and the future. Even the fact that he was going to have to trust George to escort Catalina to the Minster no longer seemed to worry him, 'now why don't you help her get ready? She is going to need a friendly face after all that happened with her wedding dress…and be a friendly face mother,'

'As long as you promise me, my boy, you and your bride can keep your hands off each other until night fall,' said Lady Margaret seriously, flicking her son a hard look.

'Of course, mother,' laughed Henry, guiding his mother towards the door, 'what do you take me for mother? After all you are the one who is always saying you raised me right,'

'Mmm,' muttered Lady Margaret, as she allowed Henry to escort her towards the door-after all someone had to take charge of today's events, 'at least I know you two have enjoyed no more embraces in the rose bushes and do not look at me like that Henry,'

'Like what, mother?' smiled Henry, leaning forward and kissing her on the cheek, 'now why don't you go and see if Catalina needs your help. After all, we wouldn't want to keep the people of York waiting,'

'Of course,' said Lady Margaret, trying to return her son's smile as she kept her thoughts hidden. She knew it had been her plan for Henry to marry the Dowager Princess, but she had never expected her son to fall so quickly and heavily for her. They had worked so hard to get so far and secure the dynasty, but now Henry seemed to have forgotten everything for a few amorous minutes with the little Princess. Perhaps it was her fault for not letting Henry having much of a childhood, but it was too late now and she could not break Henry's heart and force him to stop the wedding. If she was worried about losing Henry's heart to his new bride, then she would certainly lose her son forever. All Lady Margaret could do now was give her blessing to the union and make sure that the new Queen remembered who was the real power behind the throne.

* * *

'_My beautiful angel, whilst I respect and accept you decision, especially as His Holiness has ordained to give your marriage his blessing, but I cannot let this pass without saying what I feel in my heart. You are my youngest child, you are my baby and I say these things with the love I bear my angel. The King of England is not what I wanted for you. He is a man, who is only a few years younger than your father and I. He was already a man as you grew in my womb. I know you have constantly relayed to me that you and the King are happy with each other and that you feel that you can make a success of this marriage but I fear that you are mistaken. I am sure you feel there is a bond that will hold the two of you together for eternity but my dear there is so many years between you and the King, that I feel that as the years start to fall by, you will discover that whatever the love there is between yourself and the King it will disappear. I fear you will then find yourself alone and in need of comfort and whilst I pray to God Almighty that he and all the saints may keep you safe, I am plagued by nightmares of the temptation you could fall into if…._

Catalina did her best to suppress her tears as she read her mother's words, realising on the day of her wedding that the woman, whose approval she craved the most in the world, did not fully support her marriage. The letter had arrived that morning and the young bride had planned to read her mother's words as she dressed for her wedding. She had hoped that her mother's words would help sooth her nerves that had been dancing in her belly since she had bid Henry goodnight the previous evening. Instead Catalina had found them only increase and multiple as she discovered that she did not fully have the blessing of her mother, making it increasing difficult to face down the disapproving stares Katherine Gordon kept throwing in her direction. It made all the other fears that where now dancing around Catalina's mind to suddenly become so much greater.

Catalina tried not to shake as she sat in front of the glass and let Maria brush her hair. Despite all her bold words over the past few days, Catalina was now full of nerves as she realised that within a few hours, she would once again be a wife and be proclaimed Queen of England. With Arthur her nerves still been strong too, but things had been so different then. Back then everything had been so straight forward and clear. She and Arthur would be married and live in Ludlow and God-willing have babies, before they were recalled to London to take place as God's anointed, but then, the Holy Father had other plans for her and had taken Arthur. Now he had given her Henry and whilst Catalina was committed to the forthcoming union in both body and soul, she could not help but worry. What if she failed as a wife this time. What if she failed to produce a child? What if she lost her husband's love because she could not give him the Duke of York that Henry so wanted and needed? What if she was a failure as a wife, mother and queen? She would have failed Henry, her mother, God, the Holy Mother and Saints!

'Leave us!' barked Lady Margaret as she entered the room in that regal manner of her's that would put most Kings to shame, 'I wish to speak with my new daughter,'

'You may go,' whispered Catalina, through a forced smile to Maria, who seemed reluctant to leave her old friend as if sensing her distress, 'beside someone needs to check on the Princess Mary and make sure she has risen and is getting dressed,'

'Of course, Your Highness,' replied Maria, falling into a curtsey, before joining the rest of Catalina's ladies in leaving, but not before handing the comb she had been using to bush her mistress' hair to Lady Margaret.

Lady Margaret watched as all the ladies left one by one, before closing the door behind them and then approaching Catalina, who had returned to staring at the glass.

'So beautiful,' said Lady Margaret as she continued to comb Catalina's long auburn hair, 'I am happy you are wearing your hair down,'

'Henry likes it when I wear it down,' replied Catalina as she reached for her dragon brooch.

'I know my son does,' retorted Lady Margaret, 'are you sure about wearing that brooch, my dear?'

'Of course,' smiled Catalina as she undid the fastening as she thought of the man who had given it to her, 'it was the first item of jewel Henry gave me after he asked me to marry him,'

'I'm sure Henry would rather you wore a piece of jewellery that sits better with your dress, besides red is perhaps too harsh for a wedding,'

'I know,' echoed Catalina, undoing the fastening, 'but I want to look special…'

'For Henry…yes I know,' interrupted Lady Margaret, as she leaned forward and gently pulling some of Catalina's silky hair behind her ear, she whispered, 'and with that in mind, I will tell you exactly what I told Elizabeth on the morning she married my Henry-if you hurt even a hair on my boy's head, I will personally drag you to the fires of Hell,'

For a moment, Catalina sat stunned as she looked at the reflection of her new mother in the glass and found she did not know what to say or think. It would be easier if she saw an evil, jealous creature stood next to her, but though the glare and set grim expression, Catalina saw something in Lady Margaret's face that stopped her from being the evil hag that many people thought her to be. For Catalina saw in Lady Margaret, that whatever threats she made, underneath their veil was the emotion of love.

'I…I…I want to be a good wife,' Catalina finally replied, turning to face the older woman, 'will you help me?'

'Of course, my dear,' replied Lady Margaret, a smile once again on her lips as she perched beside Catalina, 'there is a very simple rule to being a good wife, but its one that most fail in. Let the world see and especially your husband see that you are always on their side, even if you are working on things which they might not agree with. That way neither of you lose sight of who you are and your husband's never loses sight of his duty- not that you would ever work against my boy,'

'I would never hurt Henry,' said Catalina definitely but as she caught sight of the bed where that evening she was supposed to do her duty for her husband, king and country, she felt her nerves begin to build. What if the failure of her and Arthur's marriage had been due to something in her? What if it happened with Henry too? After all, all she knew was that she had to lie on her back-and that had failed with Arthur-and what if that happened with Henry too, 'but I am worried that I will let him down, shall we say,'

Lady Margaret paused for a moment, as she followed Catalina's gaze towards the bed and sensed what she was thinking. For a brief moment Lady Margaret thought back to her own wedding to Henry's father and found herself suppressing a gulp as she remembered crying into her pillow, wanting her dolly and her mother to make the pain go away. It did not get any easier the time after that and the time after that. True, it had been near enjoyable during her time with Henry Stafford, but she had to admit that she could never find it in herself to give over to passion-for somewhere in the back of her mind the terrors of her twelve year old self were still lurking.

'No man is disappointed as long as his wife opens her legs,' muttered Lady Margaret bitterly, before she remembered she was not alone, 'just make sure you take a deep drink of wine…it will numb the pain,'

'Pain?!'

'Of course, my dear,' replied Lady Margaret, trying to sound sympatric, but it was always difficult when talking to anyone except her son, 'you did not think your maiden head would just disappear the moment you had a ring on your finger, did you? Surely your mother must have said something to you before she put you on the boat,'

'She did…' started Catalina slowly, '…but…it was a long time ago…and I guess…I guess I just let myself get whisked away with things,'

'Well,' said Lady Margaret starting to feel uncomfortable with the way the conversion was turning, 'I know Henry will be gentle with you-I brought him up after all, not his father!'

Catalina did not know what to say, for Lady's Margaret's words were not what she wanted to hear. She knew Henry would be gentle with her, despite their early arguments, she always knew that he would never hurt her, but that did not stop her fears, especially the looks of disappointment that would come across Henry's face, if she proved to be a bad wife.

'Now come on, my dear,' continued Lady Margaret, her voice altering slightly as Catalina realized she was trying to smile, 'there is no need to look so worried, after all we all know that you will be a good wife to Henry. Now I think its time you finished getting ready. We do not want to keep Henry waiting, do we?'

'No,' croaked Catalina, trying to find her voice, 'no, you are right. Could you please send a seamstress to me, as my dress still needs finishing,'

'Of course,' smiled Lady Margaret, as she moved towards the door, 'hopefully the guards will soon find the curl who wreaked the last dress, but you still look beautiful,'

'Thank you,' replied Catalina, putting on a smile, as she tried not to drop the dragon brooch from her shaking hands, 'I will do my best,'

Lady Margaret nodded, before leaving to find a seamstress to help her future daughter-in-law get ready for her vows at York Minster. As the door shut, Catalina found a tear roll down her cheek as she felt as if something was pressing down on her chest, making it difficult to breath. It was her wedding day, yet she was sat there in a dress that was a remade revision of a dress she had worn before. She did not feel she had the ability to be a good wife and perform the duties expected of her. But more than that, she felt that her mother did not think her daughter capable of fulfilling her destiny.

'I am sorry, Your Highness,' came the heavily Breton voice of Katarin as she entered the chamber, carrying her sewing basket. It stuck in her throat to be nice to her Harri's whore, but within a few hours the temptress would be dead and the spell she had Harri under would be broken forever, 'my Lady the King's Mother said you were ready for me finish altering you're dress,'

'Oh,' cried Catalina with a little jump, before once again composing herself, 'yes, of course. A few pearls still need to be sewn on and the hem needs finishing,'

'Yes, Your Highness,' replied Katarin without a hint of malice, 'if it pleases Your Highness, may you stand-it will make it easier and quicker,'

'Of course,' answered the young bride, getting to her feet and moving to the centre of the chamber, 'would you like me to stand on something? Would it help you?'

Katarin met the younger woman's smile with a warm grin, hiding the malice that she felt towards her employer and the glee in knowing that soon she would be ride of this annoying thorn in her side forever.

'If it please Your Highness, then yes that would be helpful,'

Putting down her sewing basket on the bed, Katarin pulled over a small stool that she spied just by the corner of the bed and aided the younger woman on to it. Returning to her sewing basket, she tried to stop the evil she was feeling show itself on her face as she imagined kicking the stool from underneath the Jezebel, and focused on getting the little strumpet on the way to a wedding…and also to meet her maker.

'It shouldn't take too long Your Highness,' smiled Katarin as she snapped the thread off the role, 'just a few stitches and then you can be on your way,'

'Thank you. Sorry I mean _Trugarez vras,' _replied Catalina, trying to sound calm, despite the fact she had to hide her shaking hands as the thought of being on the way to her wedding filled her with dread.

'Thank you, Your Highness,' said Katarin with a curtsy before kneeing down to start her sewing. With her coal black eyes as Katarin flicked her gaze between her sewing and examining her sweetheart's lover. She saw how the young woman was extremely nervous, Katarin observing that the bride's small, delicate hands were trembling, her teeth chewing on her bottom lip and her clear blue eyes were wet, 'I'm sorry if this seems bold and you will have to forgive me, Your Highness as us Bretons are always very bold but you do not seem to be at easy,'

'I…' Catalina started, but then suddenly something within her seemed to crack, 'help me down! I cannot breath!'

'Of course,' answered Katarin, dropping her needle and thread, throwing her arms up to help her rival down, 'are you well Your Highness?'

'I want to marry Henry,' Catalina gasped, forgetting that she was speaking to a servant as she jumped down from the stool and ran frantically to the window, hoping that the sight of the gardens with all its colours would ease away her burdens, 'I want to, but I cannot! I cannot!'

'Pardon, Your Highness,' asked Katarin, not sure what to make of Harri's whore breaking down in tears in front of her, 'I don't understand,'

And she did not understand. She knew the type of woman Harri's strumpet was. The type who preyed on men, who needed love to stop them feeling lonely. The type of woman who singled out men, who bordered between young and old age, and then flattered the male ego by batting their eyelids and revealing a temping glimpse of their full, rounded breasts as they told their victim how lucky they were to have a man like them protecting them. Yes, Katarin knew very well that the little weeping creature she was now faced with was all those things. From a distance she had seen the way that the Spanish harlot played on poor Harri. The way she would dance for him, throwing him secret smiles as she swayed to the music demonstrating to poor misguided Harri all that she would give him once he married her. Katarin saw too how this supposed innocent maiden, would grab hold of her Harri's hand, pulled him away to secret corners so they were alone, so the Jezebel could press herself against him, crushing her breasts on him so she could whisper her tricks in Harri's ear. This was why Katarin could not understand how this devilish creature could suddenly be weeping hysterically and crying that she could not marry her older lover.

'The King!' gasped Catalina, trying to stop what food that remained in her stomach being moving back up her body, 'the King! I…I…I can…not…I cannot marry him….I…I will…fail him,'

'But you need…' Katarin said without thinking. It was not that she had suddenly a change of heart, for nothing would give her greater pleasure than seeing the little whore disappear from Harri's life for good. But Katarin knew her Harri. She knew as long as the Spanish trollop was alive Harri would brood over her and do everything in his power to get her back in his arms. No Katarin would never be able to break the spell as long as the whore was still alive. No, Katarin had to make sure that the earth was rid of that wanton Jezebel and that would mean having to make sure she left for the church ready to marry Harri, 'sorry Your Highness but you need to marry the King. Everyone is expecting you too,'

'I know…I know,' stuttered Catalina, still struggling for breath, 'but how can I, when I know I will let Henry… I mean His Highness down?'

Katarin tried not to wince as she heard her rival once again address Harri with that alien name of Henry. Her Harri had hated that name with a passion, the only one he allowed to call him Henry was his mother and that was only because he did not wish to hurt her feelings and the pride she felt in her Lancastrian prince. But to everyone else, he was always Harri, the young man who all the English were hunting because he had the misfortune to possess a few drops of royal blood. He did not want to be King-he wanted to be with her and their baby. But now Henry was in that role and under the spell that meant he had to marry a Princess-yet the sooner she got this little whore on the way to her wedding, the sooner Katarin would be rid of that little problem and Harri will be back in her arms and proudly showing off their Roland.

'If you don't mind Your Highness,' said Katarin, pretending to be concerned for her mistress, the way her mother did when Harri's uncle, Jasper, turned up at their doorstep wanting to discuss the problem growing in Katarin belly, 'why don't you think you can't marry the King? You seem to be very much in love? Why wouldn't you marry him?'

The words stuck in Katarin's mouth as she spoke, leaving a poisonous taste, but it was a necessary evil.

'I..I..I,' stuttered Catalina, her nerves causing her to forget she was speaking to a servant, 'I do love him, which is why I cannot marry him because I will let him down,'

'But why would you do that, Your Highness?'

'Because,' cried Catalina, her eyes looking briefly at the bed, before quickly glancing at the floor as she tried to regain her ability to breath, 'because I do not think that I can do the things a wife is expected to do…and if I cannot do that then I cannot give His Highness the child he wants,'

Katarin had to swallow hard to stop the bile in her belly making an appearance as she heard her young rival speak about bedding her Harri and giving him a baby. Katarin had managed to find a way to handle the thought of her love with that White Rose creature as she could tell herself it was only duty, but this was different. This time thought she had seen first hand the relationship between the man who held her heart and the young whore, who had cast her spell over him. She saw how her lover lusted after the younger woman, for she had seen those looks before. They were the looks that Harri had on his face as the two of them would run around the fields of Brittany and would sneak around the castles the Duke had sent Harri too. The looks Katarin saw pass between Harri and that Spanish Jezebel as they oversaw the court, that flirtatious eye lock then the quick looking away that was reminiscent of lovers-for she remembered when her and Harri used to share them as she served supper in the Duke's hall.

'I don't think you and the King will have any problem when it comes to that,' replied Katarin, trying not to sneer, 'You Highness. I mean you and the King like kissing,'

'You should not listen to kitchen gossip,' said Catalina, feeling her cheeks start to glow as she suddenly felt a sting to hear a servant speak of those intimate moments she had shared with Henry, which she had hoped had been completely private.

'I am sorry, Your Highness,' whispered Katarin, trying to control her burning anger, 'it was not meant to offend, but just to say that if you like kissing, then the next step will not be too hard,'

Catalina thought for a moment and looked back on all those embraces she had shared with Henry since that first one when she had comforted him after Lord Strange had made that scene. Despite the tension of their first meeting and when she had been married to Arthur and when the late Queen was alive, Catalina had always felt so nervous when she had felt Henry's suspicious gaze on her. But when the time had come for them to acknowledge their true feelings for each other, things were very different. The tension seemed to disappear and it seemed the most natural thing in the world for Henry to hold her firmly against his body as their lips grappled with each other and their tongues explored each other's mouths. Catalina found something near accelerating in their kisses, so much so that the more they kissed, the more she wanted to press her body further on to Henry's. But more than that, Catalina found the sensitive parts of her body long to be rid of her clothes and to feel Henry's rough hands caressing them.

'I think you are right,' blushed Catalina as she once again found she could breath, 'now shall we get back to finishing this dress as I would not want to keep His Highness waiting,'

Letting Katarin guide her back to the stool, Catalina carefully hooped back up, once again looking forward to her future.

'If you don't mind me saying, Your Highness,' continued Katarin as she finished the hem of her rival's dress, fighting the urge to jab the needle into the ivory stocking legs of Harri's whore, 'let him play with you before you let him take you. Let him kiss you all over and stroke you cause then when the time comes it will hurt much less,'

'Thank you, Katarin,' smiled Catalina, everything around her suddenly seeming bright and full of hope and babies, 'was that what it was like with your husband?'

'Yes, Your Highness,' replied Katarin, her black eyes focusing hard on her stitches, 'it was just like that with Roland's father,'

* * *

Even Lord Strange had to admit that there was something very becoming about his step-brother's bride as he watched in her bridal dress of white with pale blue flowers waving and smiling at the people of York. Occasionally she had even let go of Lord Strange's arm and proceed to greet one or two members of the common people, who the guards were frantically trying to hold back, and happily accepting their well wishes. Lord Strange had to admit that it was admiral in the way the soon to be Queen handled herself and won the people's love, even if it was slightly foolhardy and much against Lord Strange's hope that this marriage would cause the downfall of his step-brother.

'You know, Your Highness,' said Lord Strange out of the corner of his mouth as Catalina returned from meeting yet another group of well wishes and took hold of his arm, 'we should be at the Minster by now. His Highness will not be happy if we are late,'

'I think His Highness will not mind,' said Catalina as she continued to smile and wave at the crowd, 'he will be happy that I have been a good Queen, but I think you are more concerned with what the King might think of you. He has entrusted me to your keep, has he not, Lord Strange?'

'Your Highness,' answered Lord Strange as he glanced side ways at his soon to be sister-in-law, trying to keep his features in natural, 'the King, my brother, has no reason to fear. I will make sure the two of you are united at the altar,'

'I am sure you will, brother,' smiled Catalina as she spotted a group of girls, whose parents had clearly dressed them in their best clothing to greet their new queen, 'as I am sure you are the perfect brother for you know that a happy, united family means a happy, united England,'

Lord Strange watched as Catalina, flanked by the Princess Mary and slightly further away Margaret, Queen of Scots went to greet the group of girls and wondered what she knew. Ever since she had arrived on England's shore she had always behaved with perfect grace and charm, and had won many hearts. Lord Strange was more than aware that some of the ladies at court, under the leadership of Katherine Gordon, were still not happy about the prospect of a new Queen on Henry's arm so soon after the death of the beloved last one, and he for one shared their opinion. Although he would not deny that his hatred for this wedding was mainly due to his annoyance that his step-brother still held the throne, Lord Strange had come to realize that part of the reason that the people of England had not turned against Henry, despite the unholiness of his new marriage, was because of the Infanta. That despite the fact she constantly played the shy, sweet girl, who just wanted to please her King and her people, Lord Strange was starting to realize that underneath lay a shrewd, political operator who knew how to play to the crowd and court.

'Your Highness,' suddenly cried one of the guards, awaking Lord Strange from his thoughts as a blur of green and white rushed passed him and knocking the startled Dowager Princess of Wales to ground as an arrow flew through the air.


End file.
